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GOETHE'S    FAUST 

V 


TRANSLATE  i1)   BY 


ANNA    SWANW1CK 

TRANSLATOR    OF   ^ESCMYLUS,   ETC. 


NEW  YORK 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES 

SUCCESSOR  TO    WHITE,  STOKES,   ft   ALLE.N 
1887 


V6/P 


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IN  MEKORIAM 

C.uj,  ws. 


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TRANSLATORS  PREFACE. 


No  one  can  be  more  fully  sensible  of  the 
shortcomings  of  a  translation  than  the  transla- 
tor ;  nevertheless  I  cannot  subscribe  to  the  opin- 
ion which  has  recently  found  several  powerful 
advocates,  namely,  "that  verse  translations  of 
good  poetry  are  a  mistake,"  and  consequently 
that  prose  is  the  most  appropriate  medium  fol- 
ks reproduction. 

Mr.  Hayward  informs  us,  in  his  recent  volume 
on  Goethe,*  that  M  there  are  now  more  than  forty 
English  translations  of  '  Faust '  in  verse,  many 
by  persons  of  taste,  cultivation,  and  accomplish- 
ment ;  but  the  highest  praise  that  can  be  justly 
claimed  for  the  best  is,  that  they  approximate 
to  the  original  in  parts.  The  cause  of  such  a 
succession  of  failures  may  be  found  in  the  nature 
of  the  task."  Mr.  Lewes,  with  reference  to  the 
inadequacy  of  metrical  translation,  says,  "A 
translation  may  be  good  as  a  translation,  but  it 
cannot  be  an  adequate  reproduction  of  the  orig- 
inal. ^  It  may  be  a  good  poem,  it  may  be  a  good 
imitation  of  another  poem,  it  may  be  better  than 
the  original,  but  it  cannot  be  an  adequate  repro- 
duction, it  cannot  be  the  same  thing  in  another 
language,  producing  the  same  effect  on  the  mind. 
And  the  cause  lies  deep  in  the  nature  of  poetry." 

This  is  perfectly  true,  and  were  the  original 
accessible  to  all,  translation  would,  of  course,  be 
superfluous.  The  choice  lies,  however,  not 
*  Foreign  Classics  for  English  Reader*. 


BBSiSO 


IV  TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE. 

between  the  original  and  a  translation,  but 
between  prose  and  verse,  as  the  most  suitable 
medium  for  the  reproduction  of  poetry.  Those 
who  inveigh  against  poetical  translation  speak  of 
"  the  sacred  and  mysterious  union  of  thought 
and  verse,  twin-born  and  immortally  wedded 
from  the  moment  of  their  birth."  The  natural 
relation  thus  recognized  as  existing  between 
thought  and  verse  in  original  composition,  does 
not,  it  appears  to  me,  cease  when  the  poetic 
thought,  instead  of  springing  from  the  depths  of 
the  creative  spirit,  is  derived  from  a  foreign 
source  ;  and  as  the  seed,  if  it  take  root,  and  spring 
forth  anew,  must  produce  a  flower,  "like  to  the 
mother  plant  in  semblance,"  so  the  poetic  thought 
can  only  find  adequate  expression  in  tones  which 
harmonize  with  the  music  of  the  original  verse. 

A  poet,  in  describing  the  pleasure  attending 
the  exercise  of  the  creative  faculty,  exclaims, 
"Oh!  to  create  within  the  soul  is  bliss!"  A 
faint  echo  of  this  emotion  accompanies  the  en- 
deavor to  body  forth  the  conceptions  of  the 
inspired  master,  and  under  such  circumstances 
the  metrical  form  suggests  itself  spontaneously, 
as  in  original  composition. 

That  the  task  of  poetical  translation  is  not 
entirely  futile  is  proved  by  many  noteworthy  ex- 
amples ;  Mr.  Lewes  himself,  in  speaking  of  the 
translation  of  Shakespeare  by  Tieck  and  A.  W. 
Schlegel,  after  alluding  to  its  shortcomings,  adds  : 
"It  is  nevertheless  a  translation  which,  on  the 
whole,  has  perhaps  no  rival  in  literature,  and 
has  served  to  make  Shakespeare  as  familiar  to 
the  Germans  as  to  us."  Can  we  imagine  that 
the  same  effect  would  have  been  produced  by 
the  most  perfect  translation  in  prose  ? 


TRANSLATOR'S  PREFACE  V 

At  the  present  time  when,  in  consequence  of 
the  growing  interest  in  scientific  pursuits,  and 
from  other  causes,  less  time  than  heretofore  is 
devoted  to  the  study  of  the  ancient  classics,  and 
when,  from  the  wide  diffusion  of  education,  a 
taste  for  literature  is  awakened  in  many  individ- 
uals, to  whom  all  languages,  except  their  own, 
are  a  sealed  book,  the  question  as  to  the  true 
ideal  to  be  aimed  at  in  translation  becomes  a  very 
important  one. 

That  we  already  possess  some  poetical  transla- 
tions which  rank  as  master-works  is  universally 
recognized,  and  I  cannot  but  think  that,  instead 
of  inveighing  against  metrical  translation  as  a 
mistake,  it  would  be  advisable  to  encourage  the 
hope  that  eventually  every  great  work  of  genius, 
of  every  age  and  every  clime,  may  be  made  ac- 
cessible to  the  English  reader  in  a  translation 
which  shall  approximate  to  the  original,  as  nearly 
as  possible,  in  form  as  well  as  in  spirit. 

My  introduction  is  based  upon  Kuno  Fischer's 
interesting  work,  entitled  "  Goethe's  Faust,  Ueber 
die  Entstehung  und  Composition  des  Gedichts," 
to  which  I  must  refer  for  a  fuller  exposition  of 
the  topics  therein  discussed.  The  sketch  of  the 
poet's  life  which  I  have  introduced,  as  illustrat- 
ing his  great  master-work,  is  compiled  from  the 
4 '  Autobiography"  (Dichtung  und  Wahrheit)y 
Bonn's  edition  ;  Lewes's  '  Life  of  Goethe," 
"  Goethe,  Vorlesungen  von  Herman  Grimm," 
and  "  Goethe,"  by  Mr.  Hayward. 


DEDICATION 

AND 

PROLOGUES, 


DEDICATION. 

Dim  forms,  ye  hover  near,  a  shadowy  train, 

As  erst  upon  my  troubled  sight  ye  stole. 

Say,  shall  I  strive  to  hold  you  once  again  ? 

Still  for  the  fond  illusion  yearns  my  soul  ? 

Ye  press  around  !      Come   then,    resume    your 

reign, 
As  upward  from  the  vapory  mist  ye  roll  ; 
Within   my    breast    youth's    throbbing    pulses 

bound, 
Fann'd   by  the   magic   air  that    breathes   your 

march  around. 

Shades  fondly  loved  appear,  your  train  attending, 
And  visions  fair  of  many  a  blissful  day  ; 
First-love    and    friendship   their    fond    accents 

blending, 
Like  to  some  ancient,  half-expiring  lay  ; 
Sorrow  revives,  her  wail  of  anguish  sending 
Back  o'er  life's  devious  labyrinthine  way, 
The  dear  ones  naming  who,  in  life's  fair  morn, 
By  Fate  beguiled,  from  my  embrace  were  torn. 

They  hearken  not  unto  my  later  song, 
The  souls  to  whom  my  earlier  lays  I  sang  ; 
Dispersed  forever  is  the  friendly  throng, 
Mute  are  the  voices  that  responsive  rang. 
My  song  resoundeth  stranger  crowds  among, 
E'en  their  applause  is  to  my  heart  a  pang  ; 
And  those  who  heard  me  once  with  joyful  heart, 
If  yet  they  live,  now  wander  far  apart. 


*icf  •    •     •  •bk^f  CATION. 

i  •;  ••!  .••• •*• 

•A^5frange^mw©ate^dye\'u,tfing  doth  my  soul, 
To  yon  calm  solemn  spirit-land,  upraise  ; 
In  faltering  cadence  now  my  numbers  roll, 
As  when,  on  harp  ^Eolian,  Zephyr  plays  ; 
My  pulses  thrill,  tears  flow  without  control, 
A  tender  mood  my  steadfast  heart  o'ersways  ; 
What  I  possess  as  from  afar  I  see  ; 
Those  I  have  lost  become  realities  to  me. 


PROLOGUE  FOR  THE 
THEATRE. 

Manager.    Dramatic  Poet.    Merryman. 
Manager. 

Ye  twain,  whom  I  so  oft  have  found 

True  friends  in  trouble  and  distress, 

Say,  in  our  scheme  on  German  ground, 

What  prospect  have  we  of  success  ? 

Fain  would  I  please  the  public,  win  their  thanks  ; 

Because  they  live  and  let  live,  as  is  meet. 

The  posts  are  now  erected  and  the  planks, 

And  all  look  forward  to  a  festal  treat, 

Their  places  taken,  they,  with  eyebrows  rais'd, 

Sit  patiently,  and  fain  would  be  amaz'd. 

I  know  the  art  to  hit  the  public  taste, 

Yet  so  perplex'd  I  ne'er  have  been  before  ; 

'Tis  true,  they're  not  accustom'd  to  the  best, 

But  then  they  read  immensely,  that's  the  bore. 

How  make  our  entertainment  striking,  new, 

And  yet  significant  and  pleasing  too  ? 

For  to  be  plain,  I  love  to  see  the  throng, 

As  to  our  booth  the  living  tide  progresses  ; 

As  wave  on  wave  successive  rolls  along, 

And   through   heaven's  narrow   portal    forceful 

presses ; 
Still  in  broad  daylight,  ere  the  clock  strikes  four, 
With  blows  their  way  toward  the  box  they  take  : 
And,  as  for  bread  in  famine,  at  the  baker's  door, 
For  tickets  are  content  their  necks  to  break. 


12  FA  UST. 

Such  various  minds  the  bard  alone  can  sway, 
My  friend,  oh  work  this  miracle  to-day  ! 

Poet. 
Oh  speak  not  of  the  motley  multitude, 
At  whose  aspect  the  spirit  wings  its  flight ; 
Shut  out  the  noisy  crowd,  whose  vortex  rude 
Still  draws  us  downward  with  resistless  might, 
Lead  to  some  nook,  where  silence  loves  to  brood, 
Where  only  for  the  bard  blooms  pure  delight, 
Where   love   and   friendship,  gracious  heavenly 

pair, 
Our  hearts  true  bliss  create,  and  tend  with  fos- 
tering care. 

What  there  upwelleth  deep  within  the  breast, 
What  there  the  timid  lip  shap'd  forth  in  sound, 
A  failure  now,  now  haply  well  expressed, 
In  the  wild  tumult  of  the  hour  is  drown'd  ; 
Oft  doth  the  perfect  form  then  first  invest 
The  poet's  thought,  when  years  have  sped   their 

round  ; 
What  dazzles  satisfies  the  present  hour, 
The  genuine  lives,  of  coming  years  the  dower. 

Merryman. 
This  cant  about  posterity  I  hate  ; 
About  posterity  were  I  to  prate, 
Who  then  the  living  would  amuse  ?     For  they 
Will  have  diversion,  ay,  and  'tis  their  due. 
A  sprightly  fellow's  presence  at  your  play, 
Methinks,  should  always  go  for  something  too  ; 
Whose  genial  wit  the  audience  still  inspires, 
Is  not  embittered  by  its  changeful  mood  ; 
A  wider  circle  he  desires, 
To  move  with  greater  power,  the  multitude. 


PROLOGUE.  13 

To  work,  then  !     Prove  a  master  in  your  art  ! 
Let  phantasy  with  all  her  choral  train, 
Sense,  reason,  feeling,  passion,  bear  their  part, 
But  mark  !  let  folly  also  mingle  in  the  strain  ! 

Manager. 
And,  chief,  let  incidents  enough  arise  ! 
A  show  they  want,  they  come  to  feast  their  eyes. 
When  stirring  scenes  before  them  are  display 'd, 
At  which  the  gaping  crowd  may  wondering  gaae, 
Your  reputation  is  already  made, 
The  man  you  are  all  love  to  praise. 
The  masses  you  alone  through  masses  can  sub- 
due, 
Each  then  selects  in  time  what  suits  his  bent. 
Bring  much,  you  somewhat  bring  to  not  a  few, 
And  from  the  house  goes  every  one  content. 
You  give  a  piece,  in  pieces  give  it,  friend  ! 
Such  a  ragout,  success  must  needs  attend  ; 
'Tis  easy  to  serve  up,  as  easy  to  invent. 
A  finish'd  whole  what  boots  it  to  present  ! 
'Twill  be  in  pieces  by  the  public  rent. 

Poet. 
How  mean  such  handicraft  as   this  you  cannot 

feel  ! 
How  it  revolts  the  genuine  artist's  mind  ! 
The  sorry  trash  in  which  these  coxcombs  deal, 
Is  here  approved  on  principle,  I  find. 

Manager. 
Such  a  reproof  disturbs  me  not  a  whit ! 
Who  on  efficient  work  is  bent, 
Must  choose  the  fittest  instrument. 
Consider  !  'tis  soft  wood  you  have  to  split ; 
Think  too  for  whom  you  write,  I  pray  1 


14  FAUST. 

One  comes  to  while  an  hour  away  ; 

One  from  the  festive  board,  a  sated  guest  ; 

Others,  more  dreaded  than  the  rest, 

From  journal-reading  hurry  to  the  play. 

As  to  a  masquerade,  with  absent  minds,   they 

press, 
Sheer  curiosity  their  footsteps  winging  ; 
Ladies  display  their  persons  and  their  dress, 
Actors  unpaid  their  service  bringing. 
What  dreams  beguile  you  on  your  poet's  height  ? 
What  puts  a  full  house  in  a  merry  mood  ? 
More  closely  view  your  patrons  of  the  night ! 
The  half  are  cold,  the  other  half  are  rude. 
One,  the  play  over,  craves  a  game  of  cards  ; 
Another  a  wild  night  in  wanton  joy  would  spend. 
Poor  fool,  the  muses'  fair  regards 
Why  court  for  such  a  paltry  end  ? 
I  tell  you,  give  them  more,  still  more,  'tis  all  I 

ask, 
Thus  you  will  ne'er  stray  widely  from  the  goal  ; 
Your  audience  seek  to  mystify,  cajole  ; — 
To  satisfy  them — that's  a  harder  task. 
What  ails  thee  ?  art  enraptured  or  distressed  ? 

Poet. 
Depart  !  elsewhere  another  servant  choose  ; 
What !  shall   he  bard  his  godlike  power  abuse  ? 
Man's  loftiest  "ight,  kind  nature's  high  bequest, 
For  your  mea    purpose  basely  sport  away  ? 
Whence  come   his  mastery  o'er  the  human  breast, 
Whence  o'er  L  e  elements  his  sway, 
But  from  the   harmony  that,  gushing  from  his 

soul, 
Draws  back  in«  ->  his  heart  the  wondrous  whole  ? 
When  round  h<  r  spindle,  with  unceasing  drone, 
Nature  still  wh   Is  th'  unending  thread  of  life  ; 


PROLOGUE.  15 

When  Being's  jarring  crowds,  together  thrown, 

Mingle  in  harsh  inextricable  strife  ; 

Who  deals  their  course  unvaried  till  it  falls, 

In  rhythmic  flow  to  music's  measur'd  tone  ? 

Each  solitary  note  whose  genius  calls, 

To  swell  the  mighty  choir  in  unison  ? 

Who  in  the  raging  storm  sees  passion  lour, 

Or  flush  of  earnest  thought  in  evening's  glow, 

Who,  in  the  springtide,  every  fairest  flower 

Along  the  loved  one's  path  would  strow  ? 

From  green  and  common  leaves  whose  hand  doth 

twine, 
The  wreath  of  glory,  won  in  every  field  ? 
Makes  sure  Olympos,  blends  the  powers  divine  ? — 
Man's  mighty  spirit,  in  the  bard  reveal'd  ! 

Merryman. 
Come  then,  employ  your  lofty  inspiration, 
And  carry  on  the  poet's  avocation, 
Just  as  we  carry  on  a  love  affair. 
Two  meet  by  chance,  are  pleased,  they  linger 

there, 
Insensibly  are  link'd,  they  scarce  know  how  ; 
Fortune  seems  now  propitious,  adverse  now, 
Then  come  alternate  rapture  and  despair  ; 
And  'tis  a  true  romance  ere  one's  aware' 
Just  such  a  drama  let  us  now  compose 
Plunge  boldly  into  life — its  depths  dis  lose  ! 
Each  lives  it,  not  to  many  is  it  knowr 
'Twill  interest  wheresoever  seiz'd  and  .shown  ; 
"Bright  pictures,  but  obscure  their  meaning  ; 
A  ray  of  truth  through  error  gleamin,, 
Thus  you  the  best  elixir  brew, 
To  charm  mankind,  and  edify  them    do. 
Then  youth's  fair  blossoms  crowd  J3  view  your 

play, 


i6 


And  wait  as  on  an  oracle  ;  while  they, 
The  tender  souls,  who  love  the  melting  mood, 
Suck  from  your  work  their  melancholy  food  ; 
Now  this  one,  and  now  that,  you  deeply  stir, 
Each  sees  the  working  of  his  heart  laid  bare  ; 
Their  tears,  their  laughter,  you  command  with 

ease. 
The  lofty  still  they  honor,  the  illusive  love, 
Your  finish'd  gentlemen  you  ne'er  can  please  ; 
A  growing  mind  alone  will  grateful  prove. 

Poet. 
Then  give  me  back  youth's  golden  prime, 
When  my  own  spirit  too  was  growing, 
"When  from  my  hearth  th'  unbidden  rhyme 
Gush'd  forth,  a  fount  forever  flowing  ; 
Then  shadowy  mist  the  world  conceal 'd, 
And  every  bud  sweet  promise  made, 
Of  wonders  yet  to  be  reveal'd, 
As  through  the  vales,  with  blooms  inlaid, 
Culling  a  thousand  flowers  I  stray 'd. 
Naught  had  I,  yet  a  rich  profusion  ; 
The  thirst  for  truth,  joy  in  each  fond  illusion. 
Give  me  unquell'd  those  impulses  to  prove  ; — 
Rapture  so  deep,  its  ecstasy  was  pain, 
The  power  of  hate,  the  energy  of  love, 
Give  me,  oh  give  me  back  my  youth  again  ! 

Merryman. 
Youth,  my  good  friend,  you  certainly  require 
When  foes  in  battle  round  you  press, 
When  a  fair  maid,  her  heart  on  fire, 
Hangs  on  your  neck  with  fond  caress, 
When  from  afar,  the  victor's  crown, 
Allures  you  in  the  race  to  run  ; 
Or  when  in  revelry  you  drown 


PROLOGUE.  17 

Your  sense,  the  whirling  dance  being  done, 
But  the  familiar  chords  among 
Boldly  to  sweep,  with  graceful  cunning, 
While  to  its  goal,  the  verse  along 
Its  winding  path  is  sweetly  running  ; 
This  task  is  yours,  old  gentlemen,  to-day  ; 
Nor  are  you  therefore  in  less  reverence  held  ; 
Age  does  not  make  us  childish,  as  folk  say, 
It  finds  us  genuine  children  e'en  in  eld. 

Manager. 
A  truce  to  words,  mere  empty  sound, 
Let  deeds  at  length  appear,  my  friends  ! 
While  idle  compliments  you  round, 
You  might  achieve  some  useful  ends, 
Why  talk  of  the  poetic  vein  ? 
Who  hesitates  will  never  know  it  ; 
If  bards  ye  are,  as  ye  maintain, 
Now  let  your  inspiration  show  it, 
To  you  is  known  what  we  require, 
Strong  drink  to  sip  is  our  desire  ; 
Come,  brew  me  such  without  delay  ! 
To  morrow  sees  undone,  what  happwnw  not  t^ 

day  ; 
Still  forward  press,  nor  ever  tire  ! 
The  possible,  with  steadfast  trust, 
Resolve  should  by  the  forelock  grasp  ; 
Then  she  will  ne'er  let  go  her  clasp, 
And  labors  on,  because  she  must. 

On  German  boards,  you're  well  aware. 

The  taste  of  each  may  have  full  sway  ; 

Therefore  in  bringing  out  your  play, 

Nor  scenes  nor  mechanism  spare  ! 

Heaven's  lamps  employ, the  greatest  and  the  least, 

Be  lavish  of  the  stellar  lights. 


Water,  and  fire,  and  rocky  heights, 
Spare  not  at  all,  nor  birds  nor  beast. 
Thus  let  creation's  ample  sphere 
Forthwith  in  this  our  narrow  booth  appear, 
And  with   considerate    speed,    through    fancy's 

spell, 
Journey  from  heaven,  thence  through  the  world, 

to  hell  ! 


PROLOGUE  IN  HEAVEN. 

The  Lord.  The  Heavenly  Hosts.  After* 
wan/MEPHiSTOPHELES.  The  three  Archangels 
come  forward. 

Raphael. 

Still  quiring  as  in  ancient  time 

With  brother  spheres  in  rival  song, 

The  sun  with  thunder-march  sublime 

Moves  his  predestin'd  course  along. 

Angels  are  strengthen 'd  by  his  sight, 

Though  fathom  him  no  angel  may  ; 

Resplendent  are  the  orbs  of  light, 

As  on  creation's  primal  day. 

Gabriel. 
And  lightly  spins  earth's  gorgeous  sphere, 
Swifter  than  thought  its  rapid  flight  ; 
Alternates  Eden-brightness  clear, 
With  solemn,  dread-inspiring  night  ; 
The  foaming  waves,  with  murmurs  hoarse, 
Against  the  rocks'  deep  base  are  hurl'd  ; 
And  in  the  sphere's  eternal  course 
Are  rocks  and  ocean  swiftly  whirl'd. 

Michael. 
And  rival  tempests  rush  amain 
From  sea  to  land,  from  land  to  sea, 
And  raging  form  a  wondrous  chain 
Of  deep  mysterious  agency  ; 
Full  in  the  thunder's  fierce  career, 
Flaming  the  swift  destructions  play  ; 


20 


But,  Lord,  thy  messengers  revere 
The  mild  procession  of  thy  day. 

The  Three. 
Angels  are  strengthened  by  thy  sight, 
Though  fathom  thee  no  angel  may  ; 
Thy  works  still  shine  with  splendor  bright 
As  on  creation's  primal  day. 

Mephistopheles. 
Since  thou,  O  Lord,  approachest  us  once  more, 
And  how  it  fares  with  us,  to  ask  art  fain, 
Since  then  hast  kindly  welcom'd  me  of  yore, 
Thou  see'st  me  also  now  among  thy  train. 
Excuse  me,  fine  harangues  I  cannot  make, 
Though  all  the  circle  look  on  me  with  scorn  ; 
My  pathos  soon  thy  laughter  would  awake, 
Hadst  thou  the  laughing  mood  not  long  forsworn, 
Of  suns  and  worlds  I  nothing  have  to  say, 
I  see  alone  mankind's  self-torturing  pains. 
The  little  world-gold  still  the  self-same  stamp 

retains, 
And  is  as  wondrous  now  as  on  the  primal  day. 
Better  he  might  have  fared,  poor  wight, 
Hadst  thou  not  given  him  a  gleam  of  heavenly 

light  ; 
Reason  he  names  it,  and  doth  so 
Use  it,  than  brutes  more  brutish  still  to  grow. 
With  deference  to  your  grace,  he  seems  to  me 
Like  any  like  long-legged  grasshopper  to  be, 
Which  ever  flies,  and  flying  springs, 
And  in  the  grass  its  ancient  ditty  sings. 
Would  he  but  always  in  the  grass  repose  ! 
In  every  heap  of  dung  he  thrusts  his  nose. 

The  Lord. 
Hast  thou  naught  else  to  say  !     Ts  blame 


PROLOGUE.  21 

In  coming  here,  as  ever,  thy  sole  aim  ? 

Does  nothing  on  the  earth  to  thee  seem  right  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
No,  Lord  !  I  find  things  there  in  miserable  plight. 
Men's  wretchedness  in  sooth  I  so  deplore, 
Not  even  I   would   plague  the   sorry  creatures 
more. 

The  Lord. 
Know'st  thou  my  servant,  Faust  ? 

Mephistopheles. 

The  doctor  ? 

The  Lord. 

Right. 
Mephistopheles. 
He  serves  thee  in  strange  fashion,  as  I  think. 
Poor  fool !     Not  earthly  is  his  food  or  drink, 
An  inward  impulse  hurries  him  afar, 
Himself  half  conscious  of  his  frenzied  mood  ; 
From  heaven  claimeth  he  its  brightest  star, 
And  from  the  earth  craves  every  highest  good, 
And  all  that's  near,  and  all  that's  far, 
Fails  to  allay  the  tumult  in  his  blood. 

The  Lord. 
Though  now  he  serves  me  with  imperfect  sight, 
I  will  erelong  conduct  him  to  the  light. 
The  gard'ner  knoweth,  when  the  green  appears, 
That  flowers  and  fruit  will  crown  the  coming 
years. 

Mephistopheles. 
What  wilt  thou  wager  ?     Him  thou  yet  shall  lose, 


If  leave  to  me  thou  wilt  but  give, 
Gently  to  lead  him  as  I  choose  ! 

The  Lord. 
So  long  as  he  on  earth  doth  live, 
So  long  'tis  not  forbidden  thee. 
Man  still  must  err,  while  he  doth  strive. 

Mephistopheles. 

I  thank  you  ;  for  not  willingly 

I  traffic  with  the  dead,  and  still  aver 

That  youth's  plump  blooming  cheek  I  very  much 

prefer. 
I'm  not  at  home  to  corpses  ;  'tis  my  way, 
Like  cats  with  captive  mice  to  toy  and  play. 

The  Lord. 

Enough  !  'tis  granted  thee  !     Divert 

This  mortal  spirit  from  his  primal  source  ; 

Him,  canst  thou  seize,  thy  power  exert 

And  lead  him  on  thy  downward  course, 

Then   stand   abash'd,  when  thou  perforce  must 

own, 
A  good  man,  in  the  direful  grasp  of  ill, 
His  consciousness  of  right  retaineth  still. 

Mephistopheles. 
Agreed  ! — the  wager  will  be  quickly  won. 
For  my  success  no  fears  I  entertain  ; 
And  if  my  end  I  finally  should  gain, 
Excuse  my  triumphing  with  all  my  soul. 
Dust  he  shall  eat,  ay,  and  with  relish  take, 
As  did  my  cousin,  the  renowned  snake. 

The  Lord. 
Here  too  thou'rt  free  to  act  without  control  ; 


PROLOGUE.  23 

I  ne'er  have  cherished  hate  for  such  as  thee. 

Of  all  the  spirits  who  deny, 

The  scoffer  is  least  wearisome  to  me. 

Ever  too  prone  is  man  activity  to  shirk, 

In  unconditioned  rest  he  fain  would  live  ; 

Hence  this  companion  purposely  I  give, 

Who  stirs,  excites,  and  must,  as  devil,  work. 

But  ye,  the  genuine  sons  of  heaven,  rejoice  ! 

In  the  full  living  beauty  still  rejoice ! 

May  that  which  works  and  lives,  the  ever-growing, 

In  bonds  of  love  enfold  you,  mercy-fraught, 

And    seeming's    changeful   forms,    around    you 

flowing, 
Do  ye  arrest,  in  ever-during  thought  ! 

{Heaven  closes,  the  Archangels  disperse. ) 

Mephistopheles  {alone). 
The  ancient  one  I  like  sometimes  to  see, 
And  not  to  break  with  him  am  always  civil  ; 
'Tis  courteous  in  so  great  a  lord  as  he, 
To  speak  so  kindly  even  to  the  devil. 


THE    TRAGEDY 

OF 

FAUST. 


DRAMATIS     PERSONS. 


Characters  in  the  Prologue  for  the  Theatre, 
The  Manager. 
The  Dramatic  Poet. 
Merryman. 

Characters  in  the  Prologue  in  Heaven. 
'The  Lord. 
Raphael,  \ 

Gabriel,    >  The  Heavenly  Host. 
Michael,  J 
Mephistopheles. 

Characters  in  the  Tragedy. 
Faust. 

Mephistopheles. 
Wagner,  a  Student. 
Margaret. 

Martha,  Margaret's  Neighbor. 
Valentine,  Margaret's  Brother. 
Old  Peasant. 
A  Student. 

Elizabeth,  an  Acquaintance  of  Margaret's. 
Frosch,         "J 

_  *      V  Guests  in  Auerbach's  Wine  Cellar. 

Siebel,  I 

Altmayer,  J 

Witches,  old  and  young ;  Wizards,  Will-o'-the-wisp,  Witch 
Pedler,  Protophantasmist,  Servibilis,  Monkeys,  Spirits, 
Journeymen,  Country-folk,  Citizens,  Beggar,  Old  Fort- 
une-teller, Shepherd,  Soldier,  Students,  etc. 

In  the  Intermezzo. 
Oberon.  i  Ariel. 

Titania.  Puck,  etc.,  etc. 


Night.     A  high  vaulted  narrow   Gothic  chamber, 
Faust,  restless ',  seated  at  his  desk. 

Faust. 

I  have,  alas  !  Philosophy, 

Medicine,  Jurisprudence  too, 

And  to  my  cost  Theology, 

With  ardent  labor,  studied  through. 

And  here  I  stand,  with  all  my  lore, 

Poor  fool,  no  wiser  than  before. 

Magister,  doctor  styled,  indeed, 

Already  these  ten  years  I  lead, 

Up,  down,  across,  and  to  and  fro, 

My  pupils  by  the  nose, — and  learn, 

That  we  in  truth  can  nothing  know  ! 

This  in  my  heart  like  fire  doth  burn. 

'Tis  true,  I've  more  cunning  than  all  your  dull 

tribe, 
Magister  and  doctor,  priest,  parson,  and  scribe  ; 
Scruple  or  doubt  comes  not  to  enthrall  me, 
Neither  can  devil  nor  hell  now  appall  me — 
Hence  also  my  heart  must  all  pleasure  forego  ! 
I  may  not  pretend  aught  rightly  to  know, 
I  may  not  pretend,  through  teaching,  to  find 
A  means  to  improve  or  convert  mankind. 
Then  I  have  neither  goods  nor  treasure, 
No  worldly  honor,  rank,  or  pleasure  ; 
No  dog  in  such  fashion  would  longer  live  ! 
Therefore  myself  to  magic  I  give, 
In  hope,  through  spirit-voice  and  might, 
Secrets  now  veiled  to  bring  to  light, 
That  I  no  more,  with  aching  brow, 


28  GOETHE'S 

Need  speak  of  what  I  nothing  know  ; 
That  I  the  force  may  recognize 
That  binds  creation's  inmost  energies  ; 
Her  vital  powers,  her  embryo  seeds  survey. 
And  fling  the  trade  in  empty  words  away. 

O  full-orb'd  moon,  did  but  thy  rays 
Their  last  upon  mine  anguish  gaze  ! 
Beside  this  desk,  at  dead  of  night, 
Oft  have  I  watched  to  hail  thy  light : 
Then,  pensive  friend  !  o'er  book  and  scroll. 
With  soothing  power,  thy  radiance  stole  ! 
In  thy  dear  light,  ah,  might  I  climb, 
Freely,  some  mountain  height  sublime, 
Round  mountain  caves  with  spirits  ride, 
In  thy  mild  haze  o'er  meadows  glide, 
And,  purged  from  knowledge-fumes,  renew 
My  spirit  in  thy  healing  dew  ! 

Woe's  me  !  still  prison'd  in  the  gloom 
Of  this  abhorr'd  and  musty  room, 
Where  heaven's  dear  light  itself  doth  pass, 
But  dimly  through  the  painted  glass  ! 
Hemmed  in  by  volumes  thick  with  dust, 
A  prey  to  worms  and  mouldering  rust, 
And  to  the  high  vault's  topmost  bound, 
With  smoky  paper  compass'd  round  ; 
With  boxes  round  thee  piled,  and  glass, 
And  many  a  useless  instrument, 
With  old  ancestral  lumber  blent — 
This  is  thy  world  !  a  world  !  alas  ! 
And  dost  thou  ask  why  heaves  thy  hearty 
With  tighten'd  pressure  in  thy  breast  ? 
Why  the  dull  ache  will  not  depart, 
By  which  thy  life-pulse  is  oppress'd  ? 
Instead  of  nature's  living  sphere, 


FAUST.  29 

Created  for  mankind  of  old, 

Brute  skeletons  surround  thee  here, 

And  dead  men's  bones  in  smoke  and  mould. 

Up  !     Forth  into  the  distant  land  ! 
Is  not  this  book  of  mystery 
By  Nostradamus'  proper  hand, 
An  all-sufficient  guide  ?     Thou'lt  see 
The  courses  of  the  stars  unroll 'd  ; 
When  nature  doth  her  thoughts  unfold 
To  thee,  thy  soul  shall  rise,  and  seek 
Communion  high  with  her  to  hold, 
As  spirit  doth  with  spirit  speak  ! 
Vain  by  dull  poring  to  divine 
The  meaning  of  each  hallow'd  sign. 
Spirits  !  I  feel  you  hov'ring  near  ; 
Make  answer,  if  my  voice  ye  hear  ! 

(He  opens  the  book  and  perceives  the  sign  of  the 
Macrocosmos. ) 

Ah  !  at  this  spectacle  through  every  sense, 
What  sudden  ecstasy  of  joy  is  flowing  ! 
I  feel  new  rapture,  hallow'd  and  intense, 
Through  every  nerve  and  vein  with  ardor  glow- 

.  ing. 
Was  it  a  god  who  character'd  this  scroll, 
Which  doth  the  inward  %miult  still, 
The  troubled  heart  with  Capture  fill, 
And  by  a  mystic  impulse,  to  my  soul, 
Unveils  the  working  of  the  wondrous  whole  ? 
Am  I  a  God  !     What  light  intense  ! 
In  these  pure  symbols  do  I  see, 
Nature  exert  her  vital  energy. 
Now  of  the  wise  man's  words  I  learn  the  sense : 

11  Unlock'd  the  spirit-world  doth  lie  ; 

Thy  sense  is  shut,  thy  heart  is  dead  ! 


3°  GOETHE'S 

Up  scholar,  lave,  with  courage  high, 
Thine  earthly  breast  in  the  morning-red  !" 
{He  contemplates  the  sign.) 

How  all  things  live  and  work, and  ever  blending, 
Weave  one  vast  whole  from  Being's  ample  range  ! 
How  powers  celestial,  rising  and  descending, 
Their  golden  buckets  ceaseless  interchange  ! 
Their  flight  on  rapture  breathing  pinions  winging, 
From  heaven  to  earth  their  genial  influence  bring- 
ing, 
Through  the  wide  sphere  their  chimes  melodious 
ringing. 

A  wondrous  show  !  but  ah  !  a  show  alone  ! 

Where  shall  I  grasp  thee,  infinite  nature,  where  ? 

Ye  breasts,  ye  fountains  of  all  life,  whereon 

Hang  heaven  and  earth,  from  which  the  withered 
heart 

For  solace  yearns,  ye  still  impart 

Your  sweet  and   fostering  tides — where  are  ye — 
where  ? 

Ye  gush,  and  must  I  languish  in  despair  ? 

{He  turns  over  the  leaves  of  the  book  impa- 
tiently, and  perceives  the  sign  of  the  Earth- 
spirit.) 

How  all  unlike  the  influence  of  this  sign 
Earth-spirit,  thou  to  me  art  nigher, 
E'en  now  my  strength  is  rising  higher, 
E'en  now  I  glow  as  with  new  wine  ; 
Courage  I  feel,  abroad  the  world  to  dare, 
The  woe  of  earth,  the  bliss  of  earth  to  bear, 
To  mingle  with  the  lightnings'  glare, 
And  mid  the  crashing  shipwreck  not  despair. 


FAUST.  31 

Clouds  gather  over  me — 

The  moon  conceals  her  light — 

The  lamp  is  quench'd — 

Vapors  are  rising — Quiv'ring  round  my  head 

Flash  the  red  beams— Down  from  the  vaulted  roof 

A  shuddering  horror  floats, 

And  seizes  me  ! 

I  feel  it,  spirit,  prayer-compell'd,  'tis  thou 

Art  hovering  near  ! 

Unveil  thyself  ! 

Ha  !     How  my  heart  is  riven  now  ! 

Each  sense,  with  eager  palpitation, 

Is  strain'd  to  catch  some  new  sensation  ! 

I  feel  my  my  heart  surrender'd  unto  thee  ! 

Thou  must  !     Thou  must !     Though  life  should 

•   be  the  fee  ! 

(He  seizes  the  book,  and  pronounces  mysteri- 
ously the  sign  of  the  spirit.  A  ruddy  flame 
flashes  up;  the  spirit  appears  in  the  flame.) 

Spirit. 
Who  calls  me  ? 

FAUST  {turning  aside). 

Dreadful  shape  ! 

Spirit. 

With  might, 
Thou  hast  compell'd  me  to  appear, 
Long  hast  been  sucking  at  my  sphere, 
And  now — 

Faust. 

Woe's  me  !     I  cannot  bear  thy  sight. 
Spirit. 
To  know  me  thou  did'st  breathe  thy  prayer, 
My  voice  to  hear,  to  gaze  upon  my  brow  ; 


32  GOETHE -S. 

Me  doth  thy  strong  entreaty  bow — 

Lo  !     I  am  here  ! — What  pitiful  despair 

Grasps   thee,  the   demigod  !     Where's  now  the 

soul's  deep  cry  ? 
Where  is  the  breast,  which  in  its  depths  a  world 

conceiv'd, 
And  bore  and  cherish'd  ;  which,  with  ecstasy, 
To  rank  itself  with  us,  the  spirits,  heav'd  ? 
Where  art  thou,  Faust?    whose  voice  I  heard 

resound, 
Who  toward  me  press'd  with  energy  profound  ? 
Art  thou  he  ?    Thou, — whom  thus  my  breath  can 

blight, 
Whose  inmost  being  with  affright 
Trembles,  a  crush'd  and  writhing  worm  ! 

Faust. 
Shall  I  yield,  thing  of  flame,  to  thee  ? 
Faust,  and  thine  equal,  I  am  he  ! 

Spirit. 
In  the  currents  of  life,  in  action's  storm, 

I  float  and  I  wave 

With  billowy  motion  ! 

Birth  and  the  grave, 

A  limitless  ocean, 

A  constant  weaving 

With  change  still  rife, 

A  restless  heaving, 

A  glowing  life — 
Thus  time's  whirring  loom  unceasing  I  ply, 
And  weave  the  life  garment  of  deity. 

Faust. 
Thou,  restless  spirit,  dost  from  end  to  end 
O'ersweep  the  world  ;  how  near  I  feel  to  thee  ! 


FAUST.  33 

Spirit. 
Thou'rt  like  the  spirit,  thou  dost  comprehend, 
Not  me  !  (  Vanishes?) 

Faust  (deeply  moved). 
Not  thee  ? 
Whom  then  ? 
I,  God's  own  image  ! 
And  not  rank  with  thee  !  (A  knock.) 

Oh  death  !     I  know  it — 'tis  my  famulus — 

My  fairest  fortune  now  escapes  ! 

That  all  these  visionary  shapes 

A  soulless  groveller  should  banish  thus  ! 

(Wagner  in  his  dressing-gown  and  night- 
cap, a  lamp  in  his  hand.  FAUST  turns 
routid  reluctantly.) 

Wagner. 
Pardon  !     I  heard  you  here  declaim  ; 
A  Grecian  tragedy  you  doubtless  read  ? 
Improvement  in  this  art  is  now  my  aim, 
For  nowadays  it  much  avails.     Indeed 
An  actor,  oft  I've  heard  it  said  at  least, 
May  give  instruction  even  to  a  priest. 

Faust. 
Ay,  if  your  priest  should  be  an  actor  too 
As  not  improbably  may  come  to  pass. 

Wagner. 
When  in  his  study  pent  the  whole  year  through, 
Man  views  the  world,  as  through  an  optic  glass, 
On  a  chance  holiday,  and  scarcely  then, 
How  by  persuasion  can  he  govern  men  ? 


34  GOETHE'S 

Faust. 
If  feeling  prompt  not,  if  it  doth  not  flow 
Fresh  from  the  spirit's  depths,  with  strong  control 
Swaying  to  rapture  every  listener's  soul, 
Idle  your  toil  ;  the  chase  you  may  forego  ! 
Brood  o'er  your  task  !     Together  glue, 
Cook  from  another's  feast  your  own  ragout, 
Still  prosecute  your  paltry  game, 
And  fan  your  ash-heaps  into  flame  ! 
Thus  children's  wonder  you'll  excite, 
And  apes',  if  such  your  appetite  : 
But  that  which  issues  from  the  heart  alone, 
Will  bend  the  hearts  of  others  to  your  own. 

Wagner. 
The  speaker  in  delivery  will  find 
Success  alone  ;  I  still  am  far  behind. 

Faust. 
A  worthy  object  still  pursue  ! 
Be  not  a  hollow  tinkling  fool ! 
Sound  understanding,  judgment  true, 
Find  utterance  without  art  or  rule  ; 
And  when  with  earnestness  you  speak, 
Then  is  it  needful  cunning  words  to  seek  ? 
Your  fine  harangues,  so  polish'd  in  their  kind, 
Wherein  the  shreds  of  human  thought  ye  twist, 
Are  unrefreshing  as  the  empty  wind, 
Whistling  through  wither'd  leaves  and  autumn 
mist  ! 

Wagner. 
O  Heavens  !  art  is  long  and  life  is  short ! 
Still  as  I  prosecute  with  earnest  zeal 
The  critic's  toil,  I'm  haunted  by  this  thought, 
And  vague  misgivings,  o'er  my  spirit  steal. 


FAUST.  35 

The  very  means  how  hardly  are  they  won, 
By  which  we  to  the  fountains  rise  ! 
And,  haply,  ere  one  half  the  course  is  run, 
Check'd  in  his  progress,  the  poor  devil  dies. 

Faust. 
Parchment,  is  that  the  sacred  fount  whence  roll 
Waters,  he  thirsteth  not  who  once  hath  quaffed  ? 
Oh,  if  it  gush  not  from  thine  inmost  soul, 
Thou  hast  not  won  the  life -restoring  draught. 

Wagner. 
Your  pardon  !    'Tis  delightful  to  transport 
One's  self  into  the  spirit  of  the  past, 
To  see  in  times  before  us  how  a  wise  man  thought, 
And  what  a  glorious  height  we  have  achieved  at 
last. 

Faust. 
Ay  truly  !  even  to  the  loftiest  star  ! 
To  us,  my  friend,  the  ages  that  are  pass'd 
A  book  with  seven  seals,  elose-fasten'd,  are  ; 
And  what  the  spirit  of  the  times  men  call, 
Is  merely  their  own  spirit  after  all, 
Wherein,  distorted  oft,  the  times  are  glass'd. 
Then  truly,  'tis  a  sight  to  grieve  the  soul  ! 
At  the  first  glance  we  fly  it  in  dismay  ; 
A  very  lumber-room,  a  rubbish-hole  ; 
At  best  a  sort  of  mock-heroic  play, 
With  saws  pragmatical,  and  maxims  sage, 
To  suit  the  puppets  and  their  mimic  stage. 

Wagner. 
But  then  the  world  and  man,  his  heart  and  brain  ! 
Touching  these  things  all  men  would  something 
know. 


3  &  GOETHE'S 

Faust. 
Ay  !  what  'mong  men  as  knowledge  doth  obtain  ! 
Who  on  the  child  its  true  name  dares  bestow  ? 
The  few  who   somewhat  of  these   things   have 

known, 
Who  their  full  hearts  unguardedly  reveal'd, 
Nor  thoughts,  nor  feelings,  from  the  mob  con- 

ceal'd, 
Have  died  on  crosses,  or  in  flames  been  thrown. — 
Excuse  me,  friend,  far  now  the  night  is  spent, 
For  this  time  we  must  say  adieu. 

Wagner. 
Still  to  watch  on  I  had  been  well  content, 
Thus  to  converse  so  learnedly  with  you. 
But  as  to-morrow  will  be  Easter-day, 
Some  further  questions  grant,  I  pray  ; 
With  diligence  to  study  still  I  fondly  cling  ; 
Already  I  know  much,  but  would  know  every- 
thing. {Exit.) 
Faust  {alone). 
How  he  alone  is  ne'er  bereft  of  hope, 
Who  clings  to  tasteless  trash  with  zeal  untir'd 
Who  doth,  with  greedy  hand,  for  treasure  grope, 
And  finding  earth-worms,  is  with  joy  inspir'd  ! 

And  dare  a  voice  of  merely  human  birth, 
E'en  here,  where  shapes  immortal  throng'd,  in- 
trude ? 
Yet  ah  !  thou  poorest  of  the  sons  of  earth, 
For  once,  I  e'en  to  thee  feel  gratitude. 
Despair  the  power  of  sense  did  well-nigh  blast, 
And  thou  didst  save  me  ere  I  sank  dismay'd  ; 
So  giant-like  the  vision  seem'd,  so  vast, 
I  felt  myself  shrink  dwarf'd  as  I  survey'd  ! 


37 


I,  God's  own  image,  from  this  toil  of  clay 
Already  freed,  with  eager  joy  who  hail'd 
The  mirror  of  eternal  truth  unveil'd, 
Mid  light  effulgent  and  celestial  day  : — 
I,  more  than  cherub,  whose  unfetter'd  soul 
With  penetrative  glance  aspir'd  to  flow 
Through  nature's  veins,  and,  still  creating,  know 
The  life  of  gods, — how  am  I  punish'd  now  ! 
One  thunder-word  hath  huiTd  me  from  the  goal  ! 

Spirit!  I  dare  not  lift  me  to  thy  sphere. 

What    though   my   power   compel  I'd   thee   to 

appear, 
My  art  was  powerless  to  detain  thee  here. 
In  that  great  moment,  rapture-fraught, 
I  felt  myself  so  small,  so  great  ; 
Fiercely   didst   thrust  me   from  the  realm  of 

thought 
Back  on  humanity's  uncertain  fate  ! 
Who'll  teach  me  now  ?  What  ought  I  to  forego  ? 
Ought  I  that  impulse  to  obey  ? 
Alas  !   our  every  deed,  as  well  as  every  woe, 
Impedes  the  tenor  of  life's  onward  way  ! 

E'en  to  the  noblest  by  the  soul  conceiv'd, 
Some  feelings  cling  of  baser  quality  ; 
And  when  the  goods  of  this  world  are  achiev'd, 
Each  nobler  aim  is  term'd  a  cheat,  a  lie. 
Our  aspirations,  our  soul's  genuine  life, 
Grow  torpid  in  the  din  of  earthly  strife. 

Though  youthful  phantasy,  while  hope  inspires, 
Stretch  o'er  the  infinite  her  wing  sublime, 
A  narrow  compass  limits  her  desires, 
When  wreck'd  our  fortunes  in  the  gulf  of  time. 
In  the  deep  heart  of  man  care  builds  her  nest, 
O'er  secret  woes  she  broodeth  there, 


3  8  GOETHE'S 

Sleepless    she  rocks  herself   and  scareth    joy 

and  rest  ; 
Still  is  she  wont  some  new  disguise  to  wear, 
She  may  as  house  and  court,  as  wife  and  child 

appear, 
As  dagger,  poison,  tire  and  flood  ; 
Imagined  evils  chill  thy  blood, 
And  what  thou  ne'er  shall  lose,  o'er  that  dost 

shed  the  tear. 

I  am  not  like  the  gods  !     Feel  it  I  must  ; 
I'm  like  the  earth-worm,  writhing  in  the  dust, 
"Which,  as  on  dust  it  feeds,  its  native  fare, 
Crushed  'neath  the  passer's  tread,  lies  buried 
there. 

Is  it  not  dust,  wherewith  this  lofty  wall, 
With  hundred  shelves,  confines  me  round, 
Rubbish,  in  thousand  shapes,  may  I  not  call 
What  in  this  moth-world  doth  my  being  bound  ? 
Here,  what  doth  fail  me,  shall  I  find  ? 
Read  in  a  thousand  tomes  that,  everywhere, 
Self-torture  is  the  lot  of  human-kind, 
With  but  one  mortal  happy,  here  and  there  ? 
Thou  hollow  skull,  that  grin,  what  should  it  say, 
But  that  thy  brain,  like  mine,  of  old  perplexed, 
Still  yearning  for  the  truth,  hath  sought  the  light 

of  day, 
And  in  the  twilight  wander'd,  sorely  vexed  ? 
Ye  instruments,  forsooth,  ye  mock  at  me, — 
With  wheel,  and  cog,  and  ring,  and  cylinder 
To  nature's  portals  ye  should  be  the  key ; 
Cunning  your  wards,  and  yet  the  bolts  ye  fail  to 

stir. 
Inscrutable  in  broadest  light, 
To  be  unveil'd  by  force  she  doth  refuse, 
What  she  reveals  not  to  thy  mental  sight, 


FAUST,  39 

Thou  wilt  not  wrest  from  her  with  levers  and 

with  screws. 
Old  useless   furnitures,  yet  stand  ye  here, 
Because  my  sire  ye  served,  now  dead  and  gone. 
Old  scroll,  the  smoke  of  years  dost  wear, 
So  long  as  o'er  this  desk  the  sorry  lamp  hath 

shone. 
Better  my  little  means  have  squandered  quite  away, 
Than  burden'd  by  that  little  here  to  sweat  and 

groan  ! 
Wouldst  thou  possess  thy  heritage,  essay, 
By  use  to  render  it  thine  own  ! 
What  we  employ  not,  but  impedes  our  way, 
That  which  the  hour  creates,  that  can  it  use  alone  ! 

But  wherefore  to  yon  spot  is  riveted  my  gaze  ? 
Is  yonder  flask  there  a  magnet  to  my  sight  ? 
Whence  this  mild  radiance  that  round  me  plays, 
As  when,  'mid  forest  gloom,  reigneth  the  moon's 
soft  light  ? 

Hail,  precious  phial  !     Thee,  with  reverent  awe, 
Down  from  thine  old  receptacle  I  draw  ! 
Science  in  thee  I  hail  and  human  art. 
Essence  of  deadliest  powers,  refin'd  and  sure, 
Of  soothing  anodynes  abstraction  pure, 
Now  in  thy  master's  need  thy  grace  impart ! 
I  gaze  on  thee,  my  pain  is  lull'd  to  rest  ; 
I  grasp  thee,  calm'd  the  tumult  in  my  breast  ; 
The  flood-tide  of  my  spirit  ebbs  away ; 
Onward  I'm  summon'd  o'er  a  boundless  main, 
Calm  at  my  feet  expands  the  glassy  plain, 
To  shores  unknown  allures  a  brighter  day. 

Lo,  where  a  car  of  fire,  on  airy  pinion, 

Comes  floating  towards  me  !     I'm  prepar'd  to  fly 

By  a  new  track  through  ether's  wide  dominion, 


S 


4°  GOETHE'S 

To  distant  spheres  of  pure  activity. 
This  life  intense,  this  godlike  ecstasy — 
Worm  that  thou  art,  such  rapture  canst  thou  earn  ? 
Only  resolve  with  courage  stern  and  high, 
Thy  visage  from  the  radiant  sun  to  turn  ; 
Dare  with  determin'd  will  to  burst  the  portals 
Past  which  in  terror  others  fain  would  steal ! 
Now  is  the  time,  through  deeds,  to  show  that 

mortals 
The  calm  sublimity  of  gods  can  feel ; 
To  shudder  not  at  yonder  dark  abyss, 
Where    phantasy  creates  her  own  self-torturing 

brood, 
Right  onward  to  the  yawning  gulf  to  press, 
Around  whose    narrow  jaws  rolleth  hell's  fiery 

flood  ; 
With  glad  resolve  to  take  the  fatal  leap, 
Though  danger  threaten  thee,  to  sink  in  endless 

sleep  ! 

Pure  crystal  goblet,  forth  I  draw  thee  now, 
From  out  thine  antiquated  case,  where  thou; 
Forgotten  hast  reposed  for  many  a  year  ! 
Oft  at  my  father's  revels  thou  didst  shine, 
To  glad  the  earnest  guests  was  thine, 
As  each  to  other  passed  the  generous  cheer. 
The  gorgeous  brede  of  figures,  quaintly  wrought, 
Which  he  who  quaff  'd  must  first  in  rhyme  ex- 
pound, 
Then  drain  the  goblet  at  one  draught  profound, 
Hath    nights    of    boyhood    to      fond  memory 

brought. 
I  to  my  neighbor  shall  not  reach  thee  now, 
Nor  on  thy  rich  device  shall  I  my  cunning  show. 
Here  is  a  juice,  makes  drunk  without  delay  ; 
Its  dark  brown  flood  thy  crystal  round  doth  fill ; 


FAUST.  41 

Let  this  last  draught,  the  product  of  my  skill, 
My  own  free  choice,  be  quaff 'd  with  resolute  will, 
A  solemn  festive  greeting,  to  the  coming  day  ! 
(He  places  the  goblet  to  his  mouth.    The  ring- 
ing of  bells,  and  choral  voices.) 

Chorus  of  Angels. 
Christ  is  arisen  ! 
Mortal,  all  hail  to  thee, 
Thou  whom  mortality, 
Earth's  sad  reality, . 
Held  as  in  prison. 

Faust. 
What  hum  melodious,  what  clear  silvery  chime, 
Thus  draws  the  goblet  from  my  lips  away? 
Ye  deep-ton'd  bells,  do  ye  with  voice  sublime, 
Announce  the  solemn  dawn  of  Easter-day  ? 
Sweet  choir!  are  ye  the  hymn  of  comfort  singing. 
Which  once  around  the  darkness  of  the  grave, 
From  seraph-voices,  in  glad  triumph  ringing, 
Of  a  new  covenant  assurance  gave  ? 

Chorus  of  Women. 
We,  his  true-hearted, 
With  spices  and  myrrh, 
Embalmed  the  departed, 
And  swathed  him  with  care  ; 
Here  we  conveyed  Him, 
Our  Master,  so  dear  ; 
Alas!     Where  we  laid  Him, 
The  Christ  is  not  here. 

Chorus  of  Angels. 

Christ  is  arisen  ! 

Perfect  through  earthly  ruth, 


42  GOETHE'S 

Radiant  with  love  and  truth, 
He  to  eternal  youth 
Soars  from  earth's  prison. 

Faust. 

Wherefore,  ye  tones  celestial,  sweet  and  strong, 

Come  ye  a  dweller  in  the  dust  to  seek  ? 

Ring  out  your  chimes  believing  crowds  among, 

The  message  well  I  hear,  my  faith  alone  is  weak  ; 

From  faith  her  darling,  miracle,  hath  sprung. 

Aloft  to  yonder  spheres  I  dare  not  soar, 

Whence  sound  the  tidings  of  great  joy  ; 

And  yet,  with  this  sweet  strain  familiar  when  a 
boy, 

Back  it  recalleth  me  to  life  once  more. 

Then  would  celestial  love,  with  holy  kiss, 

Come  o'er  me  in  the  Sabbath's  stilly  hour, 

While,  fraught  with  solemn  meaning  and  mys- 
terious power, 

Chim'd  the  deep-sounding  bell,  and  prayer  was 
bliss  ; 

A  yearning  impulse,  undefin'd  yet  dear, 

Drove  me  to  wander  on  through  wood  and  field  ; 

With  heaving  breast  and  many  a  burning  tear, 

I  felt  with  holy  joy  a  world  reveal'd. 

Gay  sports  and  festive  hours  proclaimed  with 
joyous  pealing, 

This  Easter  hymn  in  days  of  old  ; 

And  fond  remembrance  now,  doth  me,  with 
childlike  feeling, 

Back  from  the  last,  the  solemn  step,  withhold. 

O  still  sound  on,  thou  sweet  celestial  strain  ! 

The  tear-drop  flows, — Earth,  I  am  thine  again  ! 

Chorus  of  Disciples. 
He  whom  we  mourned  as  dead, 


FAUST.  43 

Living  and  glorious, 

From  the  dark  grave  hath  fled, 

O'er  death  victorious  ; 

Almost  creative  bliss 

Waits  on  his  growing  powers  ; 

Ah  !     Him  on  earth  we  miss  ; 

Sorrow  and  grief  are  ours. 

Yearning  he  left  his  own, 

Mid  sore  annoy  ; 

Ah  !  we  must  needs  bemoan, 

Master,  thy  joy! 

Chorus  of  Angels. 
Christ  is  arisen, 
Redeem' d  from  decay. 
The  bonds  which  imprison 
Your  souls,  rend  away  ! 
Praising  the  Lord  with  zeal, 
By  deeds  that  love  reveal, 
Like  brethren  true  and  leal 
Sharing  the  daily  meal, 
To  all  that  sorrow  feel 
Whisp'ring  of  heaven's  weal, 
Still  is  the  master  near, 
Still  is  he  here  ! 


{Before  the  Gate.     Promenaders  of  all  sorts  pass 
out.) 

Artisans. 
Why  choose  ye  that  direction,  pray  ? 

Others. 
To  the  hunting-lodge  we're  on  our  way. 

The  first. 
We  toward  the  mill  are  strolling  on. 


44  GOETHE'S 

A  MECHANIC. 
A  walk  to  Wasserhof  were  best. 

A   SECOND. 

The  road  is  not  a  pleasant  one. 
The  others. 
What  will  you  do  ? 

A  THIRD. 

I'll  join  the  rest. 

A   FOURTH. 

Let's  up  to  Burghof,  there  you'll  find  good  cheer, 
The  prettiest  maidens  and  the  best  of  beer, 
And  brawls  of  a  prime  sort. 

A  FIFTH. 

You  scapegrace  !  How  ; 
Your  skin  still  itching  for  a  row  ? 
Thither  I  will  not  go,  I  loathe  the  place. 

Servant  girl. 
No,  no  !    I  to  the  town  my  steps  retrace. 

Another. 
Near  yonder  poplars  he  is  sure  to  be. 

The  first. 
And  if  he  is,  what  matters  it  to  me  ! 
"With  you  he'll  walk,  he'll  dance  with  none  but 

you, 
And  with  your  pleasures  what  have  I  to  do  f 

The  second. 
To-day  he  will  not  be  alone,  he  said 
His  friend  would  be  with  him,  the  curly-head. 


FA  UST.  45 

Student. 

Why  how  those  buxom  girls  step  on  ! 
Come,  brother,  we  will  follow  them  anon. 
Strong  beer,  a  damsel  smartly  dress'd, 
Stinging  tobacco, — these  I  love  the  best. 

Burgher's  daughter. 
Look  at  those  handsome  fellows  there  ! 
'Tis  really  shameful,  I  declare, 
The  very  best  society  they  shun, 
After  those  servant-girls  forsooth,  to  run. 

Second  student  {to  the  first). 
Not  quite  so  fast !  for  in  our  rear, 
Two  girls,  well-dress'd,  are  drawing  near  ; 
Not  far  from  us  the  one  doth  dwell, 
And  sooth  to  say,  I  like  her  well. 
They  walk  demurely,  yet  you'll  see, 
That  they  will  let  us  join  them  presently. 

The  first. 

Not  I  !  restraints  of  all  kinds  I  detest. 
Quick  !   let  us  catch  the  wild-game  ere  it  flies, 
The  hand  on  Saturday  the  mop  that  plies, 
Will  on  the  Sunday  fondle  you  the  best. 

Burgher. 

No,  this  new  Burgomaster,  I  like  him  not ;  each 

hour 
He  grows  more  arrogant,  now  that  he's  raised  to 

power ; 
And  for  the  town,  what  doth  he  do  for  it  ? 
Are  not  things  worse  from  day  to  day  ? 
To  more  restraints  we  must  submit ; 
And  taxes  more  than  ever  pay. 


46  GOETHE*  S 

Beggar  {sings). 
Kind  gentlemen  and  ladies  fair, 
So  rosy-cheek'd  and  trimly  dress'd, 
Be  pleas'd  to  listen  to  my  prayer, 
Relieve  and  pity  the  distress'd. 
Let  me  not  vainly  sing  my  lay  ! 
His  heart's  most  glad  whose  hand  is  free. 
Now  when  all  men  keep  holiday, 
Should  be  a  harvest-day  to  me. 

Another  burgher. 
I  know  naught  better  on  a  holiday, 
Than  chatting  about  war  and  war's  alarms, 
When  folk  in  Turkey  are  all  up  in  arms, 
Fighting  their  deadly  battles  far  away, 
We  at  the  window  stand,  our  glasses  drain, 
And  watch  adown  the  stream  the  painted  vessels 

glide, 
Then,  blessing  peace  and  peaceful  times,  again 
Homeward  we  turn  our  steps  at  eventide. 

Third  burgher. 
Ay,  neighbor  !  So  let  matters  stand  for  me  ! 
There  they  may  scatter  one  another's  brains, 
And  wild  confusion  round  them  see — 
So  here  at  home  in  quiet  all  remains  ! 

Old  woman  {to  the  burgher's  daughters). 
Heyday  !   How  smart !    The  fresh  young  blood  1 
Who  would  not  fall  in  love  with  you  ? 
Not  quite  so  proud  !     'Tis  well  and  good  ! 
And  what  you  wish,  that  I  could  help  you  to. 

Burgher's  daughter. 
Come,  Agatha  !    I  care  not  to  be  seen 
Walking  in  public  with  these  witches.     Tru*. 


FA  l/ST.  47 

My  future  lover,  last  St.  Andrew's  E'en, 

In  flesh  and  blood  she  brought  before  my  view. 

Another. 
And  mine  she  show'd  me  also  in  the  glass, 
A  soldier's  figure,  with  companions  bold  : 
I  look  around,  I  seek  him  as  I  pass, 
In  vain,  his  form  I  nowhere  can  behold. 

Soldiers. 
Fortress  with  turrets 
Rising  in  air, 
Damsel  disdainful, 
Haughty  and  fair, 
These  be  my  prey  ! 
Bold  is  the  venture, 
Costly  the  pay  ! 

Hark  how  the  trumpet 
Thither  doth  call  us, 
Where  either  pleasure 
Or  death  may  befall  us. 
Hail  to  the  tumult ! 
Life's  in  the  field  ! 
Damsel  and  fortress 
To  us  must  yield. 
Bold  is  the  venture, 
Costly  the  pay  ! 
Gaily  the  soldier 
Marches  away. 

(Faust  and  Wagner.  ) 

Faust. 
Loosed  from  their  fetters  are  streams  and  rills 
Through  the  gracious  spring-tide's  all-quicken- 
ing glow  ; 


48 


GOETHE'S 


Hope's  budding  joy  in  the  vale  doth  blow  5 

Old  Winter  back  to  the  savage  hills 

Withdraweth  his  force,  decrepid  now. 

Thence  only  impotent  icy  grains 

Scatters  he  as  he  wings  his  flight, 

Striping  with  sleet  the  verdant  plains  ; 

But  the  sun  endureth  no  trace  of  white  ; 

Everywhere  growth  and  movement  are  rife, 

All  things  investing  with  hues  of  life  : 

Though  flowers  are  lacking,  varied  of  dye, 

Their  colors  the  motley  throng  supply. 

Turn  thee  around,  and  from  this  height, 

Back  to  the  town  direct  thy  sight. 

Forth  from  the  hollow,  gloomy  gate, 

Stream  forth  the  masses,  in  bright  array. 

Gladly  seek  they  the  sun  to-day  ; 

The  Resurrection  they  celebrate  : 

For  they  themselves  have  risen,  with  joy, 

From  tenement  sordid,  from  cheerless  room, 

From  bonds  of  toil,  from  care  and  annoy, 

From  gable  and  roof's  o^er-hanging  gloom, 

From  crowded  alley  and  narrow  street, 

And  from  the  churches'  awe-breathing  night. 

All  now  have  issued  into  the  light. 

But  look  !  how  spreadeth  on  nimble  feet 

Through  garden  and  field  the  joyous  throng, 

How  o'er  the  river's  ample  sheet, 

Many  a  gay  wherry  glides  along  ; 

And  see,  deep  sinking  in  the  tide, 

Pushes  the  last  boat  now  away. 

E'en  from  yon  far  hill's  path-worn  side, 

Flash  the  bright  hues  of  garments  gay. 

Hark  !  Sounds  of  village  mirth  arise  ; 

This  is  the  people's  paradise. 

Both  great  and  small  send  up  a  cheer  ; 

Here  am  I  man,  I  feel  it  here. 


FAUST.  49 

Wagner. 
Sir  Doctor,  in  a  walk  with  you 
There's  honor  and  instruction  too  ; 
Yet  here  alone  I  care  not  to  resort, 
Because  I  coarseness  hate  of  every  sort. 
This  fiddling,  shouting,  skittling,  I  detest ; 
I  hate  the  tumult  of  the  vulgar  throng  ; 
They  roar  as  by  the  evil  one  possess'd, 
And  call  it  pleasure,  call  it  song. 

Peasants.     ( Under  the  linden  tree.     Dance  and 
song.) 

The  shepherd  for  the  dance  was  dress'd 
With  ribbon,  wreath,  and  coloured  vest, 
A  gallant  show  displaying. 
And  round  about  the  linden-tree, 
They  footed  it  right  merrily. 

Juchhe  !     Juchhe  ! 

Juchheisa  !     Heisa  !     He  ! 
So  fiddle-bow  was  braying. 

Our  swain  amidst  the  circle  press'd, 
He  pushed  a  maiden  trimly  dress'd, 
And  jogg'd  her  with  his  elbow  ; 
The  buxom  damsel  turn'd  her  head, 
"  Now  that's  a  stupid  trick  !"  she  said, 

Juchhe  !     Juchhe  ! 

Juchheisa  !     Heisa  !     He  ! 
Don't  be  so  rude,  good  fellow  ! 

Swift  in  the  circle  they  advance, 
They  dance  to  right,  to  left  they  dance, 
The  skirts  abroad  are  swinging. 
And  they  grow  red,  and  they  grow  warm, 
Elbow  on  hip,  they  arm  in  arm, 
Juchhe  !     Juchhe  J 


5°  GOETHE'S 

Juchheisa  !     Heisa  !     He  ! 
Rest,  talking  now  or  singing. 

Don't  make  so  free  !     How  many  a  maid 
Has  been  betroth'd  and  then  betray'd  ; 
And  has  repented  after  ! 
Yet  still  he  flatter'd  her  aside, 
And  from  the  linden,  far  and  wide, 

Juchhe  !  Juchhe  ! 

Juchheisa  !     Heisa  !     He  ! 
Sound  fiddle-bow  and  laughter. 

Old  Peasant. 
Doctor,  'tis  really  kind  of  you, 
To  condescend  to  come  this  way, 
A  highly  learned  man  like  you, 
To  join  our  mirthful  throng  to-day. 
Our  fairest  cup  I  offer  you, 
Which  we  with  sparkling  drink  have  crown'd, 
And  pledging  you,  I  pray  aloud, 
That  every  drop  within  its  round, 
While  it  your  present  thirst  allays, 
May  swell  the  number  of  your  days. 

Faust. 
I  take  the  cup  you  kindly  reach, 
Thanks  and  prosperity  to  each  ! 

{The  crowd  gather  round  in  a  circle.} 

Old  Peasant. 
Ay,  truly  !  'tis  well  done,  that  you 
Our  festive  meeting  thus  attend  ; 
You,  who  in  evil  days  of  yore, 
So  often  shovv'd  yourself  our  friend  ! 
Full  many  a  one  stands  living  here, 
Who  from  the  fever's  deadly  blast, 
Your  father  rescu'd,  when  his  skill 


FA  UST.  5  X 

The  fatal  sickness  stay'd  at  last. 

A  young  man  then,  each  house  you  sought, 

Where  reign'd  the  mortal  pestilence. 

Corpse  after  corpse  was  carried  forth, 

But  still  unscath'd  you  issued  thence. 

Sore  then  your  trials  and  severe  ; 

The  Helper  yonder  aids  the  helper  here. 

All. 
Heaven  bless  the  trusty  friend,  and  long 
To  help  the  poor  his  life  prolong  ! 

Faust. 
To  Him  above  in  homage  bend, 
Who  prompts  the  helper  and  Who  help  doth  send. 

{He proceeds  with  WAGNER.) 

Wagner. 
With  what  emotions  must  your  heart  o'erflow, 
Receiving  thus  the  reverence  of  the  crowd  1 
Great  man  !    How  happy,  who  like  you  doth  know 
Such  use  for  gifts  by  heaven  bestow'd  ! 
You  to  the  son  the  father  shows  ; 
They  press  around,  inquire,  advance, 
Hush'd  is  the  fiddle,  check'd  the  dance. 
Still  where  you  pass  they  stand  in  rows, 
And  each  aloft  his  bonnet  throws, 
They  fall  upon  their  knees,  almost 
As  when  there  passeth  by  the  Host. 

Faust. 
A  few  steps  further,  up  to  yonder  stone  ! 
Here  rest  we  from  our  walk.    In  times  long  past, 
Absorb'd  in  thought,  here  oft  I  sat  alone, 
And  disciplin'd  myself  with  prayer  and  fast. 
Then  rich  in  hope,  with  faith  sincere, 
With  sighs,  and  hands  in  anguish  press'd, 


52  GOETHE'S 

The  end  of  that  sore  plague,  with  many  a  tear, 

From  heaven's  dread  Lord,  I  sought  to  wrest. 

These  praises  have  to  me  a  scornful  tone. 

Oh,  could'st  thou  in  my  inner  being  read, 

How  little  either  sire  or  son, 

Of  such  renown  deserve  the  meed  ! 

My  sire,  of  good  repute,  and  sombre  mood, 

O'er  nature's  powers  and  every  mystic  zone, 

With  honest  zeal,  but  methods  of  his  own, 

With  toil  fantastic  loved  to  brood  ; 

His  time  in  dark  alchemic  cell, 

With  brother  adepts  he  would  spend, 

And  there  antagonists  compel, 

Through  numberless  receipts  to  blend. 

A  ruddy  lion  there,  a  suitor  bold, 

In  tepid  bath  was  with  the  lily  wed. 

Thence  both,  while  open  flames  around  them 

roll'd, 
Were  tortur'd  to  another  bridal  bed. 
Was  then  the  youthful  queen  descried 
With  many  a  hue,  to  crown  the  task  ; — 
This  was  our  medicine  ;  the  patients  died, 
11  WTho  were  restored  ?"  none  cared  to  ask. 
With  our  infernal  mixture  thus,  ere  long, 
These  hills  and  peaceful  vales  among, 
We  rag'd  more  fiercely  than  the  pest  ; 
Myself  the  deadly  poison  did  to  thousands  give  ; 
They  pined  away,  I  yet  must  live, 
To  hear  the  reckless  murderers  blest. 

Wagner. 
Why  let  this  thought  your  soul  o'ercast  ? 
Can  man  do  more  than  with  nice  skill, 
With  firm  and  conscientious  will, 
Practise  the  art  transmitted  from  the  past  ? 
If  duly  you  revere  your  sire  in  youth, 


FAUST.  53 

His  lore  you  gladly  will  receive  ; 

In  manhood,  if  you  spread  the  bounds  of  truth, 

Then  may  your  son  a  higher  goal  achieve. 

Faust. 
O  blest,  whom  still  the  hope  inspires, 
To  lift  himself  from  error's  turbid  flood  ! 
What  a  man  knows  not,  he  to  use  requires, 
And  what  he  knows,  he  cannot  use  for  good. 
But  let  not  moody  thoughts  their  shadow  throw 
O'er  the  calm  beauty  of  this  hour  serene  ! 
In  the  rich  sunset  see  how  brightly  glow 
Yon    cottage    homes,    girt  round    with   verdant 

green  ! 
Slow  sinks  the  orb,  the  day  is  now  no  more  ; 
Yonder  he  hastens  to  diffuse  new  life. 
Oh  for  a  pinion  from  the  earth  to  soar, 
And  after,  ever  after  him  to  strive  ! 
Then  should  I  see  the  world  below, 
Bathed  in  the  deathless  evening  beams, 
The  vales  reposing,  every  height  a-glow, 
The  silver  brooklets  meeting  golden  streams. 
The  savage  mountain,  with  its  cavern 'd  side, 
Bars  not  my  godlike  progress.     Lo,  the  ocean, 
Its  warm  bays  heaving  with  a  tranquil  motion, 
To  my  rapt  vision  opes  its  ample  tide  ! 
But  now  at  length  the  god  appears  to  sink  ; 
A  new-born  impulse  wings  my  flight, 
Onward  I  press,  his  quenchless  light  to  drink, 
The  day  before  me,  and  behind  the  night, 
The  pathless  waves  beneath,  and  over  me  the 

skies. 
Fair  dream,  it  vanish'd  with  the  parting  day  ! 
Alas  !  that  when  on  spirit- wing  we  rise, 
No  wing  material  lifts  our  mortal  clay. 
But  'tis  our  inborn  impulse,  deep  and  strong 


54  GOETHE'S 

Upwards  and  onwards  still  to  urge  our  flight, 

When  far  above  us  pours  its  thrilling  song 

The  sky-lark,  lost  in  azure  light, 

When  on  extended  wing  amain 

O'er  pine-crown'd  height  the  eagle  soars, 

And  over  moor  and  lake,  the  crane 

Still  striveth  toward  its  native  shores. 

Wagner. 
To  strange  conceits  oft  I  myself  must  own, 
But  impulse  such  as  this  I  ne'er  have  known  : 
Nor  woods,  nor  fields,  can  long  our  thoughts  en' 

gage, 
Their  wings  I  envy  not  the  feather'd  kind  ; 
Far  otherwise  the  pleasures  of  the  mind, 
Bear  us  from  book  to  book,  from  page  to  page  . 
Then  winter  nights  grow  cheerful  ;  keen  delight 
Warms  every  limb  ;  and  ah  !  when  we  unroll 
Some  old  and  precious  parchment,  at  the  sight 
All  heaven  itself  descends  upon  the  soul. 

Faust. 
Your  heart  by  one  sole  impulse  is  possess'd  , 
Unconscious  of  the  other  still  remain  ! 
Two  souls,  alas  !  are  lodg'd  within  my  breast 
Which  struggle  there  for  undivided  reign  : 
One  to  the  world,  with  obstinate  desire, 
And  closely-cleaving  organs,  still  adheres  ; 

V Above  the  mist,  the  other  doth  aspire, 
With  sacred  vehemence,  to  purer  spheres. 
Oh,  are  there  spirits  in  the  air, 
Who  float   'twixt   heaven  and    earth   dominion 

wielding, 
Stoop  hither  from  your  golden  atmosphere, 
Lead  me  to  scenes,  new  life  and  fuller  yielding  ! 
A  magic  mantle  did  I  but  possess, 


55 


Abroad  to  waft  me  as  on  viewless  wings, 
I'd  prize  it  far  beyond  the  costliest  dress, 
Nor  would  I  change  it  for  the  robe  of  kings. 

Wagner. 
Call  not  the  spirits  who  on  mischief  wait  ! 
Their  troop  familiar,  streaming  through  the  air, 
From  every  quarter  threaten  man's  estate, 
And  danger  in  a  thousand  forms  prepare  ! 
They  drive  impetuous  from  the  frozen  north, 
With   fangs    sharp-piercing,    and    keen    arrowy 

tongues  ; 
From  the  ungenial  east  they  issue  forth, 
And  prey,  with  parching  breath,  upon  your  lungs  ; 
If,  wafted  on  the  desert's  flaming  wing, 
They  from  the  south  heap  fire  upon  the  brain, 
Refreshment  from  the  west  at  first  they  bring, 
Anon  to  drown  thyself  and  field  and  plain. 
In  wait  for  mischief,  they  are  prompt  to  hear  ; 
With  guileful  purpose  our  behests  obey  ; 
Like  ministers  of  grace  they  oft  appear, 
And  lisp  like  angels,  to  betray. 
But  let  us  hence  !    Grey  eve  doth  all  things  blend, 
The  air  grows  chill,  the  mists  descend  ! 
'Tis  in  the  evening  first  our  home  we  prize — 
Why  stand  you  thus,  and  gaze  with  wondering 

eyes  ? 
What  in  the  gloom  thus  moves  you  ? 

Faust. 

Yon  black  hound 
See'st  thou,  through  corn  and  stubble  scampering 
round  ? 

Wagner. 
I've  mark'd  him  long,  naught  strange  in  him  I 
see  ! 


5  ^  GOETHE'S 

Faust. 
Note  him  !     What  takest  thou  the  brute  to  be  ? 

Wagner. 
But  for  a  poodle,  whom  his  instinct  serves 
His  master's  track  to  find  once  more. 

Faust. 
Dost    mark  how    round  us,   with  wide    spiral 

curves, 
He  wheels,  each  circle  closer  than  before  ? 
And,  if  I  err  not,  he  appears  to  me 
A  fiery  whirlpool  in  his  track  to  leave. 

Wagner. 
Naught  but  a  poodle  black  of  hue  I  see  ; 
'Tis  some  illusion  doth  your  sight  deceive. 

Faust. 
Methinks  a  magic  coil  our  feet  around, 
He  for  a  future  snare  doth  lightly  spread. 

Wagner. 
Around  us  in  doubt  I  see  him  shyly  bound, 
Since  he  two  strangers  seethinhis  master's  stead. 

Faust. 
The  circle  narrows,  he's  already  near ! 

Wagner. 
A  dog  dost  see,  no  spectre  have  we  here  ; 
He  growls,  doubts,  lays  him  on  his  belly  too, 
And  wags  his  tail — as  dogs  are  wont  to  do. 

Faust. 
Come  hither,  Sirrah  !  join  our  company  ! 


FAUST.  57 

Wagner. 
A  very  poodle,  he  appears  to  be  ! 
Thou  standest  still,  for  thee  he'll  wait ; 
Thou    speak'st  to   him,    he   fawns    upon    thee 

straight ; 
Aught  you  may  lose,  again  he'll  bring, 
And  for  your  stick  will  into  water  spring. 

Faust. 
Thou'rt  right  indeed  ;  no  trades  now  I  see 
Whatever  of  a  spirit's  agency. 
'Tis  training — nothing  more. 

Wagner. 

A  dog  well  taught 
E'en  by  the  wisest  of  us  may  be  sought. 
Ay,  to  your  favor  he's  entitled  too, 
Apt  scholar  of  the  students,  'tis  his  due  ! 

(  They  enter  the  gate  of  the  town. 


Study. 
FAUST  {entering  with  the  poodle). 

Behind  me  now  lie  field  and  plain, 

As  night  her  veil  doth  o'er  them  draw, 

Our  better  soul  resumes  her  reign 

With  feelings  of  foreboding  awe. 

Lull'd  is  each  stormy  deed  to  rest, 

And  tranquilliz'd  each  wild  desire  ; 

Pure  charity  doth  warm  the  breast, 

And  love  to  God  the  soul  inspire. 
Peace,  poodle,  peace  !    Scamper  not  thus  ;  obey 

me  ! 
Why  at  the  threshold  snuffest  thou  so  ? 
Behind  the  stove  now  quietly  lay  thee, 
My  softest  cushion  to  thee  I'll  throw. 


5  8  GOETHE'S 

As  thou,  without,  didst  please  and  amuse  me, 
Running  and  frisking  about  on  the  hill, 
Neither  shelter  will  I  refuse  thee  ; 
A  welcome  guest,  if  thou'lt  be  still. 

Ah  !  when  within  our  narrow  room, 
The  friendly  lamp  again  doth  glow, 
An  inward  light  dispels  the  gloom 
In  hearts  that  strive  themselves  to  know. 
Reason  begins  again  to  speak, 
Again  the  bloom  of  hope  returns, 
The  streams  of  life  we  fain  would  seek, 
Ah,  for  life's  source  our  spirit  yearns. 

Cease,  poodle,  cease  !  with  the  tone  that  arises, 
Hallow'd  and  peaceful,  my  soul  within, 
Accords  not  thy  growl,  thy  bestial  din. 
We  find  it  not  strange,  that  man  despises 
What  he  conceives  not  ; 
The  good  and  the  fair  he  misprizes  ; 
What  lies  beyond  him  he  doth  contemn  ; 
Snarleth  the  poodle  at  it,  like  men  ? 

But  ah  !     E'en  now  I  feel,  howe'er  I  yearn  for 

rest, 
Contentment  welleth  up  no  longer  in  my  breast. 
Yet  wherefore  must  the  stream,  alas,  so  soon  be 

dry, 
That  we  once  more  athirst  should  lie  ? 
This  sad  experience  oft  I've  approv'd  ! 
The  want  admitteth  of  compensation  ; 
We  learn  to  prize  what  from  sense  is  remov'd, 
Our  spirits  yearn  for  revelation, 
Which  nowhere  burneth  with  beauty  blent, 
More  pure  than  in  the  New  Testament. 
To  the  ancient  text  an  impulse  strong 
Moves  me  the  volume  to  explore, 


59 


And  to  translate  its  sacred  lore 
Into  the  tones  beloved  of  the  German  tongue. 
(He  opens  a  volu??ie,  and  applies  himself  to  it.) 

'Tis  writ,  u  In  the  beginning  was  the  Word  !" 

I  pause,  perplex'd  !     Who  now  will  help  afford  ? 

I  cannot  the  mere  Word  so  highly  prize  ; 

I  must  translate  it  otherwise, 

If  by  the  spirit  guided  as  I  read. 

"  In  the  beginning  was  the  Sense  !"    Take  heed, 

The  import  of  this  primal  sentence  weigh, 

Lest  thy  too  hasty  pen  be  led  astray  ! 

Is  force  creative  then  of  Sense  the  dower  ? 

"  In  the  beginning  was  the  Power  !" 

Thus  should  it  stand  :  yet,  while  the  line  I  trace, 

A  something  warns  me,  once  more  to  efface. 

The  spirit  aids  !  from  anxious  scruples  freed, 

I  write,  "  In  the  beginning  was  the  Deed  !" 

Am  I  with  thee  my  room  to  share, 

Poodle,  thy  barking  now  forbear, 

Forbear  thy  howling  ! 

Comrade  so  noisy,  ever  growling, 

I  cannot  suffer  here  to  dwell. 

One  or  the  other,  mark  me  well, 

Forthwith  must  leave  the  cell. 

I'm  loth  the  guest-right  to  withhold  ; 

The  door's  ajar,  the  passage  clear  ; 

But  what  must  now  mine  eyes  behold  ! 

Are  nature's  laws  suspended  here  ? 

Real  is  it,  or  a  phantom  show  ? 

In  length  and  breadth  how  doth  my  poodle 

grow  ! 
He  lifts  himself  with  threat'ning  mien, 
In  likeness  of  a  dog  no  longer  seen  ! 
What  spectre  have  I  harbor'd  thus  I 
Huge  as  a  hippopotamus, 


60  GOETHE'S 

With  fiery  eye,  terrific  tooth  ! 
Ah  !  now  I  know  thee,  sure  enough ! 
For  such  a  base,  half-hellish  brood, 
The  key  of  Solomon  is  good. 

Spirits  {without). 
Captur'd  there  within  is  one  ! 
Stay  without  and  follow  none  ! 
Like  a  fox  in  iron  snare, 
Hell's  old  lynx  is  quaking  there, 

But  take  heed  ! 
Hover  round,  above,  below, 

To  and  fro, 
Then  from  durance  is  he  freed  \ 
Can  ye  aid  him,  spirits  all, 
Leave  him  not  in  mortal  thrall ! 
Many  a  time  and  oft  hath  he 
Served  us,  when  at  liberty. 

Faust. 
The  monster  to  confront,  at  first, 
The  spell  of  Four  must  be  rehears'd  ; 

Salamander  shall  kindle, 
Writhe  nymph  of  the  wave, 
In  air  sylph  shall  dwindle, 
And  Kobold  shall  slave. 

Who  doth  ignore 
The  primal  Four, 
Nor  knows  aright 
Their  use  and  might, 
O'er  spirits  will  he 
Ne'er  master  be  ! 

Vanish  in  the  fiery  glow, 
Salamander  ! 


6l 


Rushingly  together  flow, 

Undine  ! 

Shimmer  in  the  meteor's  gleam, 

Sylphide  ! 

Hither  bring  thine  homely  aid, 

Incubus !     Incubus ! 

Step  forth  !     I  do  adjure  thee  thus  ! 

None  of  the  Four 

Lurks  in  the  beast  : 

He  grins  at  me,  untroubled  as  before  ; 

I  have  not  hurt  him  in  the  least. 

A  spell  of  fear 

Thou  now  shalt  hear. 

Art  thou,  comrade  fell, 

Fugitive  from  Hell  ? 

See  then  this  sign, 

Before  which  incline 

The  murky  troops  of  Hell !  > 

With  bristling  hair  now  doth  the  creature  swell. 

Canst  thou,  reprobate, 
Read  the  uncreate, 
Unspeakable,  diffused 
Throughout  the  heavenly  sphere, 
Shamefully  abused, 
Transpierced  with  nail  and  spear  ! 

Behind  the  stove,  tam'd  by  my  spells, 
Like  an  elephant  he  swells  ; 
Wholly  now  he  fills  the  room, 
He  into  mist  will  melt  away. 
Ascend  not  to  the  ceiling  !     Come, 
Thyself  at  the  master's  feet  now  lay  ! 
Thou  seest  that  mine  is  no  idle  threat. 
With  holy  fire  I  will  scorch  thee  yet ! 


62 


GOETHE'S 


Wait  not  the  might 

That  lies  in  the  triple-glowing  light ! 

Wait  not  the  might 

Of  all  my  arts  in  fullest  measure  ! 

Mephistopheles.     (As   the  mist    sinks,  comes 
forwai'd  from  behind  the  stove,  in  the  dress  of  a 
travelling-  scholar.) 
Why    all    this     uproar?    What's    the   master's 
pleasure  ? 

Faust. 
This  then  the  kernel  of  the  brute  ! 
A  travelling  scholar  ?    Why,  I  needs  must  smile. 

Mephistopheles. 
Your  learned  reverence  humbly  I  salute  ! 
You've  made  me  swelter  in  a  pretty  style. 

Faust. 
Thy  name  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
The  question  trifling  seems  from  one, 
Who  it  appears  the  Word  doth  rate  so  low  ; 
Who,  undeluded  by  mere  outward  show, 
To  Being's  depths  would  penetrate  alone. 

Faust. 
With  gentlemen  like  you  indeed 
The  inward  essence  from  the  name  we  read, 
As  all  too  plainly  it  doth  appear, 
When  Beelzebub,  Destroyer,  Liar,  meets  the  ear. 
Who  then  art  thou  ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Part  of  that  power  which  still 
Produceth  good,  while  ever  scheming  ill. 


FA  UST.  63 

Faust. 
What  hidden  mystery  in  this  riddle  lies  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
The  spirit  I,  which  evermore  denies  ! 
And  justly  ;  for  whate'er  to  light  is  brought 
Deserves  again  to  be  reduced  to  naught ; 
Then  better  'twere  that  naught  should  be. 
Thus  all  the  elements  which  ye 
Destruction,  Sin,  or  briefly,  Evil,  name, 
As  my  peculiar  element  I  claim. 

Faust. 
Thou  nam'st  thyself  a  part,  and  yet  a  whole  I  see. 

Mephistopheles. 
The  modest  truth  I  speak  to  thee. 
Though  folly's  microcosm,  man,  it  seems, 
Himself  to  be  a  perfect  whole  esteems, 
Part  of  the  part  am  I,  which  at  the  first  was  all. 

A  part  of  darkness,  which  gave  birth  to  light. 
Proud  light,  who  now  his  mother  would  enthrall, 
Contesting  space  and  ancient  rank  with  night. 
Yet  he  succeedeth  not,  for  struggle  as  he  will, 
To  forms  material  he  adhereth  still  ; 
From  them  he  streameth,  them  he  maketh  fair, 
And  still  the  progress  of  his  beams  they  check  ; 
And  so,  I  trust,  when  comes  the  final  wreck, 
Light  will,  erelong,  the  doom  of  matter  share. 

Faust. 
Thy  worthy  avocation  now  I  guess  ! 
Wholesale  annihilation  won't  prevail, 
So  thou'rt  beginning  on  a  smaller  scale. 


64 


GOETHE'S 


Mephistopheles. 
And,  to  say  truth,  as  yet  with  small  success 
Opposed  to  nothinginess,  the  world, 
This  clumsy  mass,  subsisteth  still  ; 
Not  yet  is  it  to  ruin  hurl'd, 
Despite  the  efforts  of  my  will. 
Tempests  and  earthquakes,  fire   and  flood,  I've 

tried  ; 
Yet  land  and  ocean  still  unchang'd  abide  ! 
And  then  of  humankind  and  beasts,  the  accursed 

brood — 
Neither  o'er  them  can  I  extend  my  sway. 
What  countless  myriads  have  I  swept  away  ! 
Yet  ever  circulates  the  fresh  young  blood. 
It  is  enough  to  drive  me  to  despair ! 
As  in  the  earth,  in  water,  and  in  air, 
In  moisture  and  in  drought,  in  heat  and  cold, 
Thousands  of  germs  their  energies  unfold  ! 
If  fire  I  had  not  for  myself  retain'd, 
No  sphere  whatever  had  for  me  remain'd. 

Faust. 
So  thou  with  thy  cold  devil's  fist, 
Still  clench'd  in  malice  impotent, 
Dost  the  creative  power  resist, 
The  active,  the  beneficent  ! 
Henceforth  some  other  task  essay, 
Of  Chaos  thou  the  wondrous  son  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
We  will  consider  what  you  say, 
And  talk  about  it  more  anon  ! 
For  this  time  have  I  leave  to  go  ? 

Faust. 
Why  thou  shouldst  ask,  I  cannot  see* 


FA  UST.  65 

Since  one  another  now  we  know, 
At  thy  good  pleasure,  visit  me. 
Here  is  the  window,  here  the  door, 
The  chimney,  too,  may  serve  thy  need. 

Mephistopheles. 
I  must  confess,  my  stepping  o'er 
Thy  threshold  a  slight  hindrance  doth  impede  ; 
The  wizard-foot  doth  me  retain. 

Faust. 
The  pentagram  thy  peace  doth  mar? 
To  me,  thou  son  of  hell,  explain, 
How  earnest  thou  in,  if  this  thine  exit  bar  ? 
Could  such  a  spirit  aught  ensnare  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Observe  it  well,  it  is  not  drawn  with  care, 
One  of  the  angles,  that  which  points  without, 
Is,  as  thou  seest,  not  quite  closed. 

Faust. 
Chance  hath  the  matter  happily  dispos'd  ! 
So  thou  my  captive  art  ?     No  doubt  ! 
By  accident  thou  thus  art  caught  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
In  sprang  the  dog,  indeed,  observing  naught ; 
Things  now  assume  another  shape, 
The  devil's  in  the  house  and  can't  escape. 

Faust. 
Why  through  the  window  not  withdraw  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
For  ghosts  and  for  the  devil  'tis  a  law. 


66  GOETHE'S 

Where  they  stole  in,  there  they  must  forth.  We're 

free 
The  first  to  choose  ;  as  to  the  second,  slaves  arc 

we. 

Faust. 

E'en  hell  hath  its  peculiar  laws,  I  see  ! 

I'm  glad  of  that !  a  pact  may  then  be  made, 

The  which,  you  gentlemen,  will  surely  keep  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Whate'er  therein  is  promised  thou  shalt  reap, 
No  tittle  shall  remain  unpaid. 
But  such  arrangements  time  require  ; 
We'll  speak  of  them  when  next  we  meet  ; 
Most  earnestly  I  now  entreat, 
This  once  permission  to  retire. 

Faust. 
Another  moment  prithee  here  remain, 
Me  with  some  happy  word  to  pleasure. 

Mephistopheles. 
Now  let  me  go  !  erelong  I'll  come  again, 
Then  thou  may'st  question  at  thy  leisure. 

Faust. 
To  capture  thee  was  not  my  will. 
Thyself   has  freely  entered  in  the  snare  : 
Let  him  who  holds  the  devil,  hold  him  still ! 
A  second  time  so  soon  he  will  not  catch  him  there. 

Mephistopheles. 
If  it  so  please  thee,  I'm  at  thy  command  ; 
Only  on  this  condition,  understand  ; 
That  worthily  thy  leisure  to  beguile, 
I  here  may  exercise  my  arts  a  while. 


FAUST.  67 

Faust. 
Thou'rt  free  to  do  so!     Gladly  I'll  attend  ; 
But  be  thine  art  a  pleasant  one  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

My  friend, 
This  hour  enjoyment  more  intense, 
Shall  captivate  each  ravish'd  sense, 
Than  thou  couldst  compass  in  the  bound 
Of  the  whole  year's  unvarying  round  ; 
And  what  the  dainty  spirits  sing, 
The  lovely  images  they  bring, 
Are  no  fantastic  sorcery. 
3ich  odors  shall  regale  your  smell, 
On  choicest  sweets  your  palate  dwell, 
Your  feelings  thrill  with  ecstasy. 
No  preparation  do  we  need, 
Here  we  together  are.     Proceed. 

Spirits. 
Hence  overshadowing  gloom 
Vanish  from  sight  ! 
O'er  us  thine  azure  dome, 
Bend,  beauteous  light ! 
Dark  clouds  that  o'er  us  spread, 
Melt  in  thin  air  ! 
Stars,  your  soft  radiance  shed, 
Tender  and  fair. 
Girt  with  celestial  might, 
Winging  their  airy  flight, 
Spirits  are  thronging. 
Follows  their  forms  of  light 
Infinite  longing  ! 
Flutter  their  vestures  bright 
O'er  field  and  grove  ! 
Where  in  their  leafy  bower 


68  GOETHE'S 

Lovers  the  livelong  hour 

Vow  deathless  love. 

Soft  bloometh  bud  and  bower  ! 

Bloometh  the  grove  ! 

Grapes  from  the  spreading  vine 

Crown  the  full  measure  ; 

Fountains  of  foaming  wine 

Gush  from  the  pressure. 

Still  where  the  currents  wind, 

Gems  brightly  gleam. 

Leaving  the  hills  behind 

On  rolls  the  stream  ; 

Now  into  ample  seas, 

Spreadeth  the  flood  ; 

Laving  the  sunny  leas, 

Mantled  with  wood. 

Rapture  the  feather'd  throng, 

Gayly  careering, 

Sip  as  they  float  along  • 

Sunward  they're  steering  ; 

On  toward  the  isles  of  light 

Winging  their  way, 

That  on  the  waters  bright 

Dancingly  play. 

Hark  to  the  choral  strain, 

Joyfully  ringing  ! 

While  on  the  grassy  plain 

Dancers  are  springing ; 

Climbing  the  steep  hill's  side, 

Skimming  the  glassy  tide, 

Wander  they  there  ; 

Others  on  pinions  wide 

Wing  the  blue  air  ; 

On  toward  the  living  stream, 

Toward  yonder  stars  that  gleam, 

Far,  far  away  ; 


FAUST.  69 

Seeking  their  tender  beam 
Wing  they  their  way. 

Mephistopheles. 
Well  done,  my  dainty  spirits  !  now  he  slumbers  ; 
Ye  have  entranc'd  him  fairly  with  your  numbers  ; 
This  minstrelsy  of  yours  I  must  repay. — 
Thou  art  not  yet  the  man  to  hold  the  devil  fast  !— 
With  fairest  shapes  your  spells  around  him  cast, 
And  plunge  him  in  a  sea  of  dreams  ! 
But  that  this  charm  be  rent,  the  threshold  passed, 
Tooth  of  rat  the  way  must  clear. 
I  need  not  conjure  long,  it  seems, 
One  rustles  hitherward,  and  soon  my  voice  will 

hear. 
The  master  of  the  rats  and  mice, 
Of  flies  and  frogs,  of  bugs  and  lice, 
Commands  thy  presence  ;  without  fear 
Come  forth  and  gnaw  the  threshold  here, 
Where  he  with  oil  has  smear'd  it. — Thou 
Com'st  hopping  forth  already  !     Now 
To  work  !     The  point  that  holds  me  bound 
Is  in  the  outer  angle  found. 
Another  bite — so — now  'tis  done — 
Now,Faustus,  till  we  meet  again,  dream  on. 

Faust  {awaking). 
Am  I  once  more  deluded  !  must  I  deem 
This  troop  of  thronging  spirits  all  ideal  ? 
The  devil's  presence,  was  it  nothing  real  ? 
The  poodle's  disappearance  but  a  dream  ? 

Study.    Faust.     Mephistopheles. 

Faust. 
A   knock  ?     Come  in  !     Who  now  would  break 
my  rest  ? 


7°  GOETHE'S 

Mephistopheles. 
'Tis  I ! 

Faust. 
Come  in ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Thrice  be  the  words  express'd. 
Faust. 
Then  I  repeat  Come  in  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

'Tis  well, 
I  hope  that  we  shall  soon  agree  ! 
For  now  your  fancies  to  expel, 
Here,  as  a  youth  of  high  degree, 
I  come  in  gold-lac'd  scarlet  vest, 
And  stiff-silk  mantle  richly  dress'd, 
A  cock's  gay  feather  for  a  plume, 
A  long  and  pointed  rapier,  too  ; 
And  briefly  I  would  counsel  you 
To  don  at  once  the  same  costume, 
And,  free  from  trammels,  speed  away, 
That  what  life  is  you  may  essay. 

Faust. 
In  every  garb  I  needs  must  feel  oppress'd, 
My  heart  to  earth's  low  cares  a  prey. 
Too  old  the  trifler's  part  to  play, 
Too  young  to  live  by  no  desire  possess'd. 
What  can  the  world  to  me  afford  ? 
Renounce  !  renounce  !  is  still  the  word  ; 
This  is  the  everlasting  song 
In  every  ear  that  ceaseless  rings, 
And  which,  alas,  our  whole  life  long, 
Hoarsely  each  passing  moment  sings. 


7i 


But  to  new  horror  I  awake  each  morn, 

And  I  could  weep  hot  tears,  to  see  the  sun 

Dawn  on  another  day,  whose  round  forlorn 

Accomplishes  no  wish  of  mine — not  one. 

Which  still,  with  froward  captiousness,  impairs 

E'en  the  presentiment  of  every  joy, 

While  low  realities  and  paltry  cares 

The  spirit's  fond  imaginings  destroy, 

And  must  I  then,  when  falls  the  veil  of  night, 

Stretch 'd  on  my  pallet  languish  in  despair  ; 

Appalling  dreams  my  soul  affright ; 

No  rest  vouchsafed  me  even  there. 

The  god,  who  throned  within  my  breast  resides, 

Deep  in  my  soul  can  stir  the  springs  ; 

With  sovereign  sway  my  energies  he  guides, 

He  cannot  move  external  things  ; 

And  so  existence  is  to  me  a  weight, 

Death  fondly  I  desire,  and  life  I  hate. 

Mephistopheles. 
And  yet,  methinks,  by  most  'twill  be  confess'd 
That  Death  is  never  quite  a  welcome  guest. 

Faust. 
Happy  the  man  around  whose  brow  he  binds 
The  bloodstain'd  wreath  in  conquest's  dazzling 

hour  ; 
Or  whom,  excited  by  the  dance,  he  finds 
Dissolv'd  in  bliss,  in  love's  delicious  bower ! 
O  that  before  the  lofty  spirit's  might, 
Enraptured,  I  had  rendered  up  my  soul  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Yet  did  a  certain  man  refrain,  one  night, 
Of  its  brown  juice  to  drain  the  crystal  bowl. 


72  GOETHE'S 

Faust. 
To  play  the  spy  diverts  you  then  ? 

Mephistopheles. 

I  own, 
Though  not  omniscient,  much  to  me  is  known, 

Faust. 
If  o'er  my  soul  the  tone  familiar,  stealing, 
Drew  me  from  harrowing  thought's  bewild'ring 

maze, 
Touching  the  ling'ring  chords  of  childlike  feeling 
With  the  sweet  harmonies  of  happier  days  : 
So  curse  I  all,  around  the  soul  that  windeth 
Its  magic  and  alluring  spell, 
And  with  delusive  flattery  bindeth 
Its  victim  to  this  dreary  cell  ! 
Curs'd  before  all  things  be  the  high  opinion, 
Wherewith  the  spirit  girds  itself  around  ! 
Of  shows  delusive  curs'd  be  the  dominion, 
Within  whose  mocking  sphere  our  sense  is  bound  ! 
Accurs'd  of  dreams  the  treacherous  wiles, 
The  cheat  of  glory,  deathless  fame  ! 
Accurs'd  what  each  as  property  beguiles, 
Wife,  child,  slave,  plough,  whate'er  its  name ! 
Accurs'd  be  mammon,  when  with  treasure 
He  doth  to  daring  deeds  incite  : 
Or  when  to  steep  the  soul  in  pleasure, 
He  spreads  the  couch  of  soft  delight ! 
Curs'd  be  the  grape's  balsamic  juice  ! 
Accurs'd  love's  dream,  of  joys  the  first  ! 
Accurs'd  be  hope  !  accurs'd  be  faith  ! 
And  more  than  all,  be  patience  curs'd  ! 

Chorus  of  Spirits  {invisible). 
Woe  !   woe  ! 


FAUST.  73 

Thou  hast  destroy'd 

The  beautiful  world 

With  violent  blow  ; 

'Tis  shiver'd  !  'tis  shatter'd  ! 

The  fragments  abroad  by  a  demigod  scatter'd  ! 

Now  we  sweep 

The  wrecks  into  nothingness  ! 

Fondly  we  weep 

The  beauty  that's  gone  ! 

Thou,  'mongst  the  sons  of  earthy 

Lofty  and  mighty  one, 

Build  it  once  more  ! 

In  thine  own  bosom  the  lost  world  restore  ! 

Now  with  unclouded  sense 

Enter  a  new  career  ; 

Songs  shall  salute  thine  ear, 

Ne'er  heard  before  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

My  little  ones  these  spirits  be. 

Hark  !  with  shrewd  intelligence, 

How  they  recommend  to  thee 

Action,  and  the  joys  of  sense  ! 

In  the  busy  world  to  dwell, 

Fain  they  would  allure  thee  hence : 

For  within  this  lonely  cell, 

Stagnate  sap  of  life  and  sense. 

Forbear  to  trifle  longer  with  thy  grief, 

Which,  vulture-like,  consumes  thee  in  this  den. 

The  worst  society  is  some  relief, 

Making  thee  feel  thyself  a  man  with  men. 

Nathless  it  is  not  meant,  I  trow, 

To  trust  thee  'mid  the  vulgar  throng. 

I  to  the  upper  ranks  do  not  belong  ; 

Yet  if,  by  me  companion'd,  thou 

Thy  steps  through  life  forthwith  wilt  take, 


74  GOETHE'S 

Upon  the  spot  myself  I'll  make 

Thy  comrade  ; — 

Should  it  suit  thy  need, 

I  am  thy  servant,  am  thy  slave  indeed  \ 

Faust. 
And  how  must  I  thy  services  repay  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Thereto  thou  lengthen'd  respite  hast ! 

Faust. 

No  !  No ! 

The  devil  is  an  egotist  I  know : 

And,  for  Heaven's  sake,  'tis  not  his  way 

Kindness  to  any  one  to  show. 

Let  the  condition  plainly  be  exprest ; 

Such  a  domestic  is  a  dangerous  guest. 

Mephistopheles. 
I'll  pledge  myself  to  be  thy  servant  here, 
Still  at  thy  back  alert  and  prompt  to  be  ; 
But  when  together  yonder  we  appear, 
Then  shalt  thou  do  the  same  for  me. 

Faust. 
But  small  concern  I  feel  for  yonder  world  ; 
Hast  thou  this  system  into  ruin  hurl'd, 
Another  may  arise  the  void  to  fill. 
This  earth  the  fountain  whence  my  pleasures  flow, 
This  sun  doth  daily  shine  upon  my  woe, 
And  if  this  world  I  must  forego, 
Let  happen  then, — what  can  and  will. 
I  to  this  theme  will  close  mine  ears, 
If  men  hereafter  hate  and  love, 
And  if  there  be  in  yonder  spheres 
A  depth  below  or  height  above. 


FAUST.  75 

Mephistopheles. 
In  this  mood  thou  mayest  venture  it.     But  make 
The  compact,  and  at  once  I'll  undertake 
To  charm  thee  with  mine  arts.    I'll  give  thee  more 
Than  mortal  eye  hath  e'er  beheld  before. 

Faust. 
What,  sorry  Devil,  hast  thou  to  bestow? 
Was  ever  mortal  spirit,  in  its  high  endeavor, 
Fathom'd  by  Being  such  as  thou  ? 
Yet  food  thou  hast  which  satisfieth  never, 
Hast  ruddy  gold,  that  still  doth  flow 
Like  restless  quicksilver  away, 
A  game  thou  hast,  at  which  none  win  who  play, 
A  girl  who  would,  with  amorous  eyen, 
E'en  from  my  breast,  a  neighbor  snare, 
Lofty  ambition's  joy  divine, 
That,  meteor-like,  dissolves  in  air. 
Show  me  the  fruit  that,  ere  'tis  pluck'd,  doth  rot, 
And  trees,  whose  verdure  daily  buds  anew. 

Mephistopheles. 
Such  a  commission  scares  me  not, 
I  can  provide  such  treasures,  it  is  true  ; 
But,  my  good  friend,  a  season  will  come  round, 
When  on  what's  good  we  may  regale  in  peace. 

Faust. 
If  e'er  upon  my  couch,  stretched  at  my  ease,  I'm 

found, 
Then  may  my  life  that  instant  cease  ; 
Me  canst  thou  cheat  with  glozing  wile 
Till  self-reproach  away  I  cast  ? — 
Me  with  joy's  lure  canst  thou  beguile  ? — 
Let  that  day  be  for  me  the  last  I 
Be  this  our  wager  ' 


76 


GOETHE'S. 


Mephistopheles. 
Settled ! 

Faust. 

Sure  and  fast ! 
When  to  the  moment  I  shall  say, 
"  Linger  a  while,  so  fair  thou  art !" 
Then  mayst  thou  fetter  me  straightway, 
Then  to  the  abyss  will  I  depart  ; 
Then  may  the  solemn  death-bell  sound, 
Then  from  thy  service  thou  art  free, 
The  index  then  may  cease  its  round, 
And  time  be  never  more  for  me  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I  shall  remember  :  pause,  ere  'tis  too  late. 

Faust. 
Thereto  a  perfect  right  hast  thou. 
My  strength  I  do  not  rashly  overrate. 
Slave  am  I  here,  at  any  rate, 
If  thine  or  whose  it  matters  not,  I  trow. 

Mephistopheles. 
At  thine  inaugural  feast  I  will  this  day 
Attend,  my  duties  to  commence. — 
But  one  thing  ! — Accidents  may  happen,  hence 
A  line  or  two  in  writing  grant,  I  pray. 

Faust. 
A  writing,  Pedant  !  dost  demand  from  me  ? 
Man,   and  man's  plighted  word,   are  these  un- 
known to  thee  ? 
Is't  not  enough,  that  by  the  word  I  gave, 
My  doom  for  evermore  is  cast  ? 
Doth  not  the  world  in  all  its  currents  rave, 
And  must  a  promise  hold  me  fast  ? 


FAUST.  77 

Yet  fixed  is  this  delusion  in  our  heart  ; 

Who,  of  his  own  freewill,  therefrom  would  part  ? 

How  blest  within  whose  breast  truth  reigneth 

pure  ! 
No  sacrifice  will  he  repent  when  made  ! 
A  formal  deed,  with  seal  and  signature, 
A  spectre  this  from  which  all  shrink  afraid. 
The  word  its  life  resigneth  in  the  pen, 
Leather  and  wax  usurp  the  mastery  then. 
Spirit  of  evil  !  what  dost  thou  require  ? 
Brass,  marble,  parchment,  paper,  dost  desire  ? 
Shall  I  with  chisel,  pen,  or  graver  write  ? 
Thy  choice  is  free  ;  to  me  'tis  all  the  same. 

Mephistopheles. 
Wherefore  thy  passion  so  excite, 
And  thus  thine  eloquence  inflame  ? 
A  scrap  is  for  our  compact  good. 
Thou  under-signest  merely  with  a  dr*^  of  blood. 

Faust. 
If  this  will  satisfy  thy  mind, 
Thy  whim  I'll  gratify,  howe'er  absurd, 

Mephistopheles. 
Blood  is  a  juice  of  very  special  kind. 

Faust. 
Be  not  afraid  that  I  shall  break  my  woed 
The  scope  of  all  my  energy. 
Is  in  exact  accordance  with  my  vow. 
Vainly  I  have  aspired  too  high  ; 
I'm  on  a  level  but  with  such  as  thou  ; 
Me  the  great  spirit  scorn'd,  defied  ; 
Nature  from  me  herself  doth  hide  ; 
Rent  is  the  web  of  thought  ;  my  mind 
Doth  knowledge  loathe  of  every  kind. 


7^  GOETHE'S 

In  depths  of  sensual  pleasure  drown'd, 
Let  us  our  fiery  passions  still ! 
Enwrapp'd  in  magic's  veil  profound, 
Let  wondrous  charms  our  senses  thrill ! 
Plunge  we  in  time's  tempestuous  flow, 
Stem  we  the  rolling  surge  of  chance  ! 
There  may  alternate  weal  and  woe, 
Success  and  failure,  as  they  can, 
Mingle  and  shift  in  changeful  dance  ! 
Excitement  is  the  sphere  for  man. 

Mephistopheles. 
Nor  goal,  nor  measure  is  prescrib'd  to  you. 
If  you  desire  to  taste  of  every  thing, 
To  snatch  at  joy  while  on  the  wing, 
May  your  career  amuse  and  profit  too  ! 
Only  fall  to  and  don't  be  over  coy  ! 

Faust. 
Hearken  !     The  end  I  aim  at  is  not  joy  ; 
I  crave  excitement,  agonizing  bliss, 
Enamour'd  hatred,  quickening  vexation. 
Purg'd  from  the  love  of  knowledge,  my  vocation, 
The  scope  of  all  my  powers  henceforth  be  this, 
To  bare  my  breast  to  every  pang, — to  know- 
In  my  heart's  core  all  human  weal  and  woe, 
To  grasp  in  thought  the  lofty  and  the  deep, 
Men's  various  fortunes  on  my  breast  to  heap, 
And  thus  to  theirs  dilate  my  individual  mind, 
And  share  at  length  with  them  the  shipwreck  of 
mankind. 

Mephistopheles. 
Oh,  credit  me,  who  still  as  ages  roll, 
Have  chew'd  this  bitter  fare  from  year  to  year, 
No  mortal,  from  the  cradle  to  the  bier, 


FA  UST.  79 

Digests  the  ancient  leaven  !     Know,  this  Whole 

Doth  for  the  Deity  alone  subsist  ! 

He  in  eternal  brightness  doth  exist, 

Us  unto  darkness  he  hath  brought,  and  here 

Where  day  and  night  alternate,  is  your  sphere. 

Faust. 
But  'tis  my  will ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Well  spoken,  I  admit ! 
But  one  thing  puzzles  me,  my  friend  ; 
Time's  short,  art  long  ;  methinks  'twere  fit 
That  you  to  friendly  counsel  should  attend. 
A  poet  choose  as  your  ally  ! 
Let  him  thought's  wide  dominion  sweep, 
Each  good  and  noble  quality, 
Upon  your  honored  brow  to  heap  ; 
The  lion's  magnanimity, 
The  fleetness  of  the  hind, 
The  fiery  blood  of  Italy, 
The  Northern's  steadfast  mind  ! 
Let  him  to  you  the  mystery  show 
To  blend  high  aims  and  cunning  low  ; 
And  while  youth's  passions  are  aflame 
To  fall  in  love  by  rule  and  plan  ! 
I  fain  would  meet  with  such  a  man  ; 
Would  him  Sir  Microcosmus  name. 

Faust. 
What  then  am  I,  if  I  aspire  in  vain 
The  crown  of  our  humanity  to  gain, 
Toward  which  my  every  sense  doth  strain  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Thou'rt  after  all — just  what  thou  art. 
Put  on  thy  head  a  wig  with  countless  locks, 


So 


GOETHE'S 


Raise  to  a  cubit's  height  thy  learned  socks, 
Still  thou  remainest  ever,  what  thou  art. 

Faust. 
I  feel  it,  I  have  heap'd  upon  my  brain 
The  gather'd  treasure  of  man's  thought  in  vain  ; 
And  when  at  length  from  studious  toil  I  rest, 
No  power,  new-born,  springs  up  within  my  breast ; 
A  hair's  breadth  is  not  added  to  my  height, 
I  am  no  nearer  to  the  infinite. 

Mephistopheles. 
Good  sir,  these  things  you  view  indeed, 
Just  as  by  other  men  they're  view'd  ; 
We  must  more  cleverly  proceed, 
Before  life's  joys  our  grasp  elude. 
The  devil !  thou  hast  hands  and  feet, 
And  head  and  heart  are  also  thine  ; 
What  I  enjoy  with  relish  sweet, 
Is  it  on  that  account  less  mine  ? 
If  for  six  stallions  I  can  pay, 
Do  I  not  own  their  strength  and  speed. 
A  proper  man  I  dash  away, 
As  their  two  dozen  legs  were  mine  indeed. 
Up  then,  from  idle  pondering  free, 
And  forth  into  the  world  with  me  ! 
I  tell  you  what  ; — your  speculative  churl 
Is  like  a  beast  which  some  ill  spirit  leads, 
On  barren  wilderness,  in  ceaseless  whirl, 
While  all  around  lie  fair  and  verdant  meads. 

Faust. 
But  how  shall  we  begin  ? 

Mephistopheles. 

We  will  go  hence  with  speed, 
A  place  of  torment  this  indeed  ! 


FAUST,  XI 

A  precious  life,  thyself  to  bore, 

And  some  few  youngsters  evermore  ! 

Leave  it  to  neighbor  Paunch  ; — withdraw, 

Why  wilt   thou   plague   thyself  with    thrashing 

straw  ? 
The  very  best  that  thou  dost  know 
Thou  dar'st  not  to  the  striplings  show. 
One  in  the  passage  now  doth  wait ! 

Faust. 
I'm  in  no  mood  to  see  him  now. 

Mephistopheles. 
Poor  lad  !     He  must  be  tired,  I  trow  ; 
He  must  not  go  disconsolate. 
Hand  me  thy  cap  and  gown  ;  the  mask 
Is  for  my  purpose  quite  first  rate. 

(He  changes  his  dress.) 
Now  leave  it  to  my  wit !    I  ask 
But  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  meanwhile  equip, 
And  make  all  ready  for  our  pleasant  trip  ! 

{Exit  Faust.) 

Mephistopheles  (in  Faust's  long  gown). 
Mortal  !  the  loftiest  attributes  of  men, 
Reason  and  Knowledge,  only  thus  contemn, 
Still  let  the  Prince  of  lies,  without  control, 
With  shows,  and  mocking  charms  delude  thy  soul, 
I  have  thee  unconditionally  then  ! — 
Fate  hath  endow'd  him  with  an  ardent  mind, 
Which  unrestrain'd  still  presses  on  forever, 
And  whose  precipitate  endeavor 
Earth's  joys  o'erleaping,  leaveth  them  behind. 
Him  will  I  drag  through  life's  wild  waste, 
Through  scenes  of  vapid  dulness,  where  at  last 
Bewilder'd,  he  shall  falter,  and  stick  fast ; 


82 


GOETHE'S 


And,  still  to  mock  his  greedy  haste, 

Viands  and  drink   shall  float  his  craving   lips 

beyond — 
Vainly  he'll  seek  refreshment,  anguish-tost, 
And  were  he  not  the  devil's  by  his  bond, 
Yet  must  his  soul  infallibly  be  lost ! 

(A  Student  enters). 

Student. 
But  recently  I've  quitted  home, 
Full  of  devotion  am  I  come 
A  man  to  know  and  hear,  whose  name 
With  reverence  is  known  to  fame. 

Mephistopheles. 
Your  courtesy  much  flatters  me  ! 
A  man  like  other  men  you  see  ; 
Pray  have  you  yet  applied  elsewhere  ? 

Student. 
I  would  entreat  your  friendly  care  ! 
I've  youthful  blood  and  courage  high  ; 
Of  gold  I  bring  a  fair  supply  ; 
To  let  me  go  my  mother  was  not  fain  ; 
But  here  I  longed  true  knowledge  to  attairio 

Mephistopheles. 
You've  hit  upon  the  very  place. 

Student. 
And  yet  my  steps  I  would  retrace. 
These  walls,  this  melancholy  room, 
O'erpower  me  with  a  sense  of  gloom  ; 
The  space  is  narrow,  nothing  green, 
No  friendly  tree  is  to  be  seen  : 
And  in  these  halls,  with  benches  lined, 
Sight,  hearing  fail,  fails  too  my  mind. 


FA  UST.  S3 

Mephistopheles. 
It  all  depends  on  habit.     Thus  at  first 
The  infant  takes  not  kindly  to  the  breast, 
But  before  long,  its  eager  thirst 
Is  fain  to  slake  with  hearty  zest : 
Thus  at  the  breasts  of  wisdom  day  by  day 
With  keener  relish  you'll  your  thirst  allay. 

Student. 
Upon  her  neck  I  fain  would  hang  with  joy  ; 
To  reach  it,  say,  what  means  must  I  employ  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Explain,  ere  further  time  we  lose, 
What  special  faculty  you  choose  ? 

Student. 
Profoundly  learned  I  would  grow, 
What  heaven  contains  would  comprehend, 
O'er  earth's  wide  realm  my  gaze  extend, 
Nature  and  science  I  desire  to  know. 

Mephistopheles. 
You  are  upon  the  proper  track,  I  find. 
Take  heed,  let  nothing  dissipate  your  mind. 

Student. 
My  heart  and  soul  are  in  the  chase  ! 
Though  to  be  sure  I  fain  would  seize, 
On  pleasant  summer  holidays, 
A  little  liberty  and  careless  ease. 

Mephistopheles. 
Use  well  your  time,  so  rapidly  it  flies  ; 
Method  will  teach  you  time  to  win  ; 
Uence,  my  young  friend,  I  would  advise, 
With  college  logic  to  begin  ! 


§4  GOETHE'S 

Then  will  your  mind  be  so  well  braced, 

In  Spanish  boots  so  tightly  laced, 

That  on  'twill  circumspectly  creep, 

Thought's  beaten  track  securely  keep, 

Nor  will  it,  ignis-fatuus  like, 

Into  the  path  of  error  strike. 

Then  many  a  day  they'll  teach  you  how 

The  mind's  spontaneous  acts,  till  now 

As  eating  and  as  drinking  free, 

Require  a  process  ; — one  !  two  !  three  ! 

In  truth  the  subtle  web  of  thought 

Is  like  the  weaver's  fabric  wrought : 

One  treadle  moves  a  thousand  lines, 

Swift  dart  the  shuttles  to  and  fro, 

Unseen  the  threads  together  flow, 

A  thousand  knots  one  stroke  combines. 

Then  forward  steps  your  sage  to  show, 

And  prove  to  you,  it  must  be  so  ; 

The  first  being  so,  and  so  the  second, 

The  third  and  fourth  deduc'd  we  see  ; 

And  if  there  were  no  first  and  second, 

Nor  third  nor  fourth  would  ever  be. 

This,  scholars  of  all  countries  prize — 

Yet  'mong  themselves  no  weavers  rise. 

He  who  would  know  and  treat  of  aught  alive, 

Seeks  first  the  living  spirit  thence  to  drive  : 

Then  are  the  lifeless  fragments  in  his  hand, 

There  only  fails,  alas  !  the  spirit-band. 

This  process,  chemists  name,  in  learned  thesis, 

Mocking  themselves,  Natures  encheiresis. 

Student. 
Your  words  I  cannot  fully  comprehend. 

Mephistopheles. 
In  a  short  time  you  will  improve,  my  friend, 


FA  UST. 


85 


When  of  scholastic  forms  you  learn  the  use  ; 
And  how  by  method  all  things  to  reduce. 

Student. 
So  doth  all  this  my  brain  confound, 
As  if  a  mill-wheel  there  were  turning  round. 

Mephistopheles. 
And  next,  before  aught  else  you  learn, 
You  must  with  zeal  to  metaphysics  turn  ! 
There  see  that  you  profoundly  comprehend 
What  doth  the  limit  of  man's  brain  transcend  ; 
For  that  which  is  or  is  not  in  the  head 
A  sounding  phrase  will  serve  you  in  good  stead. 
But  before  all  strive  this  half  year 
From  one  fix'd  order  ne'er  to  swerve  ! 
Five  lectures  daily  you  must  hear  ; 
The  hour  still  punctually  observe  ! 
Yourself  with  studious  zeal  prepare, 
And  closely  in  your  manual  look, 
Hereby  may  you  be  quite  aware 
That  all  he  utters  standeth  in  the  book  ; 
Yet  write  away  without  cessation, 
As  at  the  Holy  Ghost's  dictation  ! 

Student. 
This,  sir,  a  second  time  you  need  not  say  ! 
Your  counsel  I  appreciate  quite  ; 
What  we  possess  in  black  and  white, 
We  can  in  peace  and  comfort  bear  away. 

Mephistopheles. 
A  faculty  I  pray  you  name. 

Student. 
For  jurisprudence  some  distaste  I  own. 


86 


GOETHE  S 


Mephistopheles. 
To  me  this  branch  of  science  is  well  known, 
And  hence  I  cannot  your  repugnance  blame. 
Customs  and  laws  in  every  place, 
Like  a  disease,  an  heir-loom  dread, 
Still  trail  their  curse  from  race  to  race, 
And  furtively  abroad  they  spread. 
To  nonsense,  reason's  self  they  turn  ; 
Beneficence  becomes  a  pest ; 
Woe  unto  thee,  that  thou'rt  a  grandson  born  ! 
As  for  the  law  born  with  us,  unexpress'd  ; — 
That  law,  alas,  none  careth  to  discern. 

Student. 
You  deepen  my  dislike.     The  youth 
Whom  you  instruct  is  blest  in  sooth. 
To  try  theology  I  feel  inclined. 

Mephistopheles. 
I  would  not  lead  you  willingly  astray, 
But  as  regards  this  science,  you  will  find, 
So  hard  it  is  to  shun  the  erring  way, 
And  so  much  hidden  poison  lies  therein, 
Which  scarce  can  you  discern  from  medicine. 
Here  too  it  is  the  best,  to  listen  but  to  one, 
And  by  the  master's  words  to  swear  alone. 
To  sum  up  all — To  words  hold  fast ! 
Then  the  safe  gate  securely  pass'd, 
You'll  reach  the  fane  of  certainty  at  last, 

Student. 
But  then  some  meaning  must  the  words  convey. 

Mephistopheles. 
Right  !     But  o'er-anxious  thought,  you'll  find  of 
no  avail, 


FAUST.  87 

For  there  precisely  where  ideas  fail, 
A  word  comes  opportunely  into  play. 
Most  admirable  weapons  words  are  found, 
On  words  a  system  we  securely  ground, 
In  words  we  can  conveniently  believe, 
Nor  of  a  single  jot  can  we  a  word  bereave. 

Student. 
Your  pardon  for  my  importunity  ; 
Yet  once  more  must  I  trouble  you  : 
On  medicine,  I'll  thank  you  to  supply 
A  pregnant  utterance  or  two  ! 
Three  years  !  how  brief  the  appointed  tide  ! 
The  field,  heaven  knows,  is  all  too  wide  ! 
If  but  a  friendly  hint  be  thrown, 
'Tis  easier  then  to  feel  one's  way. 

Mephistopheles  {aside). 
I'm  weary  of  the  dry  pedantic  tone, 
And  must  again  the  genuine  devil  play. 

{Aloud.) 
Of  medicine  the  spirit's  caught  with  ease, 
The  great  and  little  world  you  study  through, 
That  things  may  then  their  course  pursue, 
As  heaven  may  please. 
In  vain  abroad  you  range  through  science*  ample 

space, 
Each  man  learns  only  that  which  learn  he  can  ; 
Who  knows  the  moment  to  embrace, 
He  is  your  proper  man. 
In  person  you  are  tolerably  made, 
Nor  in  assurance  will  you  be  deficient : 
Self-confidence  acquire,  be  not  afraid, 
Others  will  then  esteem  you  a  proficient. 
Learn  chiefly  with  the  sex  to  deal ! 
Their  thousand  ahs  and  ohs, 


00  GOE  THE  'S 

These  the  sage  doctor  knows, 

He  only  from  one  point  can  heal. 

Assume  a  decent  tone  of  courteous  ease, 

You  have  them  then  to  humor  as  you  please. 

First  a  diploma  must  belief  infuse, 

That  you  in  your  profession  take  the  lead  : 

You  then  at  once  those  easy  freedoms  use 

For  which  another  many  a  year  must  plead  ; 

Learn  how  to  feel  with  nice  address 

The  dainty  wrist  ; — and  how  to  press, 

With  ardent  furtive  glance,  the  slender  waist, 

To  feel  how  tightly  it  is  laced. 

Student. 
There  is  some  sense  in  that !   one  sees  the  how 
and  why. 

Mephistopheles. 
Gray  is,  young  friend,  all  theory  : 
And  green  of  life  the  golden  tree. 

Student. 

1  swear  it  seemeth  like  a  dream  to  me  ; 
May  I  some  future  time  repeat  my  visit, 

To  hear  on  what  your  wisdom  grounds  your  views  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Command  my  humble  service  when  you  choose. 

Student. 
Ere  I  retire,  one  boon  I  must  solicit : 
Here  is  my  album,  do  not,  sir,  deny 
This  token  of  your  favor  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Willingly  \ 
{He  writes  and  returns  tke  book.) 


FA  l/ST.  89 

Student  (reads). 
Eritis  sicut  deus,  scientes  bonum  et  malum. 
{He  reverently  closes  the  book  and  retires.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Let  but  this  ancient  proverb  be  your  rule, 
My  cousin  follow  still,  the  wily  snake, 
And  with  your  likeness  to  the  gods,  poor  fool, 
Erelong  be  sure  your  poor  sick  heart  will  quake  I 

Faust  (enters). 
Whither  away  ? 

MEPH I STOPHELES. 

'Tis  thine  our  course  to  steer. 
The  little  world,  and  then  the  great  we'll  view. 
With  what  delight,  what  profit  too, 
Thou'lt  revel  through  thy  gay  career  ! 

Faust. 
Despite  my  length  of  beard  I  need 
The  easy  manners  that  insure  success  ; 
Th'  attempt  I  fear  can  ne'er  succeed  ; 
To  mingle  in  the  world  I  want  address  ; 
I  still  have  an  embarrass'd  air,  and  then 
I  feel  myself  so  small  with  other  men. 

Mephistopheles. 
Time,  my  good  friend,  will  all  that's  needful  give  ; 
Be  only  self-possessed,  and  thou  hast  learn'd  to 
live. 

Faust. 
But  how  are  we  to  start,  I  pray  ? 
Steeds,  servants,  carriage,  where  are  they  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
We've  but  to  spread  this  mantle  wide, 


9°  GOETHE'S 

'Twill  serve  whereon  through  air  to  ride. 
No  heavy  baggage  need  you  take, 
When  we  our  bold  excursion  make. 
A  little  gas,  which  I  will  soon  prepare, 
Lifts  us  from  earth  ;  aloft  through  air, 
Light  laden,  we  shall  swiftly  steer  ; — 
I  wish  you  joy  of  your  new  life-career. 


(Atterbactis  Cellar  in  Leipzig.    A  drinking  parly.) 

Frosch. 
No  drinking  ?    Naught  a  laugh  to  raise  ? 
None  of  your  gloomy  looks,  I  pray ! 
You,  who  so  bright  were  wont  to  blaze, 
Are  dull  as  wetted  straw  to-day. 

Brander. 
'Tis  all  your  fault  ;  your  part  you  do  not  bear, 
No  beastliness,  no  folly. 

Frosch  {fiours  a  glass  of  wine  over  his  head?) 
There, 
You  have  them  both  ! 

Brander. 

You  double  beast ! 
Frosch. 
'Tis  what  you  ask'd  me  for,  at  least  I 

Siebel. 
Whoever  quarrels,  turn  him  out ! 
With  open  throat  drink,  roar,  and  shout. 
Hollo  !  Hollo  !  Ho  ! 

Altmayer. 
Zounds,  fellow,  cease  your  deaf 'ning  cheers  ! 
Bring  cotton-wool !     He  splits  my  ears. 


FA  UST.  9 * 

SlEBEL. 
'Tis  when  the  roof  rings  back  the  tone, 
Then  first  the  full  power  of  the  bass  is  known. 

Frosch. 
Right  !  out  with  him  who  takes  offence  ! 
A  tara  lara  la  ! 

Altmayer. 
A  tara  lara  la  ! 

Frosch. 
Our  throats  are  tuned.     Come  let's  commence. 
(Sings.) 
The  holy  Roman  empire  now, 
How  holds  it  still  together  ? 

Brander. 
An  ugly  song  !  a  song  political  ! 
A  song  offensive  !     Thank  God,  every  morn 
To  rule  the  Roman  empire,  that  you  were  not 

born  ! 
I  bless  my  stars  at  least  that  mine  is  not 
Either  a  kaiser's  or  a  chancellor's  lot. 
Yet  'mong  ourselves  should  one  still  lord  it  o'er 

the  rest ; 
That  we  elect  a  pope  I  now  suggest. 
Ye  know,  what  quality  insures 
A  man's  success,  his  rise  secures. 

Frosch  (sings). 
Bear,  lady  nightingale  above, 
Ten  thousand  greetings  to  my  love. 

Siebel. 

No  greetings  to  a  sweetheart !     No  love-songs 
shall  there  be  ! 


92  GOETHE'S 

Frosch. 
Love-greetings  and  love-kisses  !     Thou  shalt  not 
hinder  me  ! 

(Sings.) 
Undo  the  bolt !  in  stilly  night, 
Undo  the  bolt !  thy  love's  awake  i 
Shut  to  the  bolt !  with  morning  light — 

SlEBEL. 

Ay,  sing  away,  sing  on,  her  praises  sound  ; — the 

snake ! 
My  turn  to  laugh  will  come  some  day. 
Me  hath  she  jilted  once,  you  the  same  trick  she'll 

play. 
Some  gnome  her  lover  be  !  where   cross-roads 

meet, 
With  her  to  play  the  fool  ;  or  old  he-goat, 
From  Blocksberg  coming  in  swift  gallop,  bleat 
A  good-night  to  her,  from  his  hairy  throat ! 
A  proper  lad  of  genuine  flesh  and  blood 
Is  for  the  damsel  far  too  good  ; 
The  greeting  she  shall  have  from  me 
To  smash  her  window-panes  will  be ! 

Brander  (striking  on  the  table). 
Silence  !    Attend  !  to  me  give  ear  ! 
Confess,  sirs,  I  know  how  to  live  : 
Some  love-sick  folk  are  sitting  here  ! 
Hence,  'tis  but  fit,  their  hearts  to  cheer, 
That  I  a  good-night  strain  to  them  should  give. 
Hark  !  of  the  newest  fashion  is  my  song ! 
Strike  boldly  in  the  chorus,  clear  and  strong  ! 

(He  sings.) 
Once  in  a  cellar  lived  a  rat 
He  feasted  there  on  butter. 


FAUST.  93 

Until  his  paunch  became  as  fat 

As  that  of  Doctor  Luther. 

The  cook  laid  poison  for  the  guest, 

Then  was  his  heart  with  pangs  oppress'd, 

As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

Chorus  {shouting). 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 
Brander. 
He  ran  around,  he  ran  abroad, 
Of  every  puddle  drinking. 
The  house  with  rage  he  scratch'd  and  gnaw'd. 
In  vain, — he  fast  was  sinking  ; 
Full  many  an  anguish'd  bound  he  gave, 
Nothing  the  hapless  brute  could  save, 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

Chorus. 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 
Brander. 
By  torture  driven,  in  open  day, 
The  kitchen  he  invaded, 
Convulsed  upon  the  hearth  he  lay, 
With  anguish  sorely  jaded  ; 
The  poisoner  laugh'd,  Ha  !  ha  !  quoth  she, 
His  life  is  ebbing  fast,  I  see, 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

Chorus. 
As  if  his  frame  love  wasted. 

Siebel. 
How  the  dull  boors  exulting  shout  ! 
Poison  for  the  poor  rats  to  strew 
A  fine  exploit  it  is  no  doubt. 


94  GOETHE'S 

Brander. 
They,  as  it  seems,  stand  well  with  you  ! 

Altmayer. 
Old  bald-pate !  with  the  paunch  profound  ! 
The  rat's  mishap  hath  tamed  his  nature  ; 
For  he  his  counterpart  hath  found 
Depicted  in  the  swollen  creature. 

(Faust  and  Mephistopheles.) 
Mephistopheles. 
I  now  must  introduce  to  you, 
Before  aught  else,  this  jovial  crew, 
To  show  how  lightly  life  may  glide  away  ; 
With  the  folk  here  each  day's  a  holiday. 
With  little  wit  and  much  content, 
Each  on  his  own  small  round  intent, 
Like  sportive  kitten  with  its  tail  ; 
While  no  sick-headache  they  bewail, 
And  while  their  host  will  credit  give, 
Joyous  and  free  from  care  they  live. 

Brander. 
They're  off  a  journey,  that  is  clear, — 
They  look  so  strange  ;  they've  scarce  been  here 
An  hour. 

Frosch. 
You're  right  !     Leipzig's  the  place  for  me  ! 
'Tis  quite  a  little  Paris  ;  people  there 
Acquire  a  certain  easy  finish'd  air. 

SlEBEL. 

What  take  you  now  these  travellers  to  be  ? 

Froscii. 
Let  me  alone  !     O'er  a  full  glass  you'll  see, 


FA  UST.  95 

As  easily  I'll  worm  their  secret  out, 
As  draw  an  infant's  tooth.     I've  not  a  doubt 
That  my  two  gentlemen  are  nobly  born, 
They  look  dissatisfied  and  full  of  scorn. 

Brander. 
They  are  but  mountebanks,  I'll  lay  a  bet ! 

Altmayer. 
Most  like. 

Frosch. 
Mark  me,  I'll  screw  it  from  them  yet ! 

Mephistopheles  (to  Faust). 
These  fellows  would  not  scent  the  devil  out, 
E'en  though  he  had  them  by  the  very  throat  ! 

Faust. 
Good-morrow,  gentlemen  ! 

Siebel. 
Thanks  for  your  fair  salute. 
(Aside,  glancing  at  Mephistopheles.  ) 
How  !  goes  the  fellow  on  a  halting  foot? 

Mephistopheles. 
Is  it  permitted  here  with  you  to  sit  ? 
Then    though    good    wine  is    not    forthcoming 

here, 
Good  company  at  least  our  hearts  will  cheer. 

Altmayer. 
A  dainty  gentleman,  no  doubt  of  it. 

Frosch. 
You're  doubtless  recently  from  Rippach  ?     Pray, 
Did  you  with  Master  Hans  there  chance  to  sup  ? 


9^  GOETHE'S 

Mephistopheles. 
To-day  we  pass'd  him,  but  we  did  not  stop  ! 
When  last  we  met  him  he  had  much  to  say 
Touching  his  cousins,  and  to  each  he  sent 
Full  many  a  greeting  and  kind  compliment. 

( With  an  inclination  toward  Frosch.) 

Altmayer  {aside  to  Frosch). 
You  have  it  there  ! 

Siebel. 
Faith  !  he's  a  knowing  one  ! 

Frosch. 
Have  patience  !     I  will  show  him  up  anon  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Unless  I  err,  as  we  drew  near 
We  heard  some  practis'd  voices  pealing. 
A  song  must  admirably  here 
Re-echo  from  this  vaulted  ceiling  ! 

Frosch. 
That  you're  an  amateur  one  plainly  sees  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Oh  no,  though  strong  the  love,    I  cannot  boast 
much  skill. 

Altmayer. 
Give  us  a  song  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

As  many  as  you  will, 

Siebel. 
But  be  it  a  new  one,  if  you  please  ! 


97 


Mephistopheles. 
But  recently  returned  from  Spain  are  we, 
The  pleasant  land  of  wine  and  minstrelsy. 

{Sings.) 

A  king  there  was  once  reigning, 
Who  had  a  goodly  flea — 

Frosch. 
Hark  !  did  you  rightly  catch  the  words  ?  a  flea  ! 
An  odd  sort  of  a  guest  he  needs  must  be. 

Mephistopheles  {sings). 
A  king  there  was  once  reigning, 
Who  had  a  goodly  flea, 
Him  loved  he  without  feigning, 
As  his  own  son  were  he ! 
His  tailor  then  he  summon'd, 
The  tailor  to  him  goes  ; 
Now  measure  me  the  youngster 
For  jerkin  and  for  hose  ! 

Brander. 
Take  proper  heed,  the  tailor  strictly  charge, 
The  nicest  measurement  to  take, 
And  as  he  loves  his  head,  to  make 
The  hose  quite  smooth  and  not  too  large  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
In  satin  and  in  velvet, 
Behold  the  younker  dressed  ; 
Bedizen'd  o'er  with  ribbons, 
A  cross  upon  his  breast. 
Prime  minister  they  made  him, 
He  wore  a  star  of  state  ; 
And  all  his  poor  relations 
Were  courtiers,  rich  and  great. 


9&  GOETHE'S 

The  gentlemen  and  ladies 

At  court  were  sore  distressed  ; 

The  queen  and  all  her  maidens 

Were  bitten  by  the  pest, 

And  yet  they  dared  not  scratch  them. 

Or  chase  the  fleas  away. 

If  we  are  bit,  we  catch  them, 

And  crack  without  delay. 

Chorus  {shouting). 
Tf  we  are  bit,  etc. 

Frosch. 
Bravo  !     That's  the  song  for  me  ! 

Siebel. 
Such  be  ttiQ  fate  of  every  flea  ! 

Brander. 
With  clever  finger  catch  and  kill. 

Altmayer. 
Hurrah  for  wine  and  freedom  still  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Were  but  your  wine  a  trifle  better,  friend, 
A  glass  to  freedom  I  would  gladly  drain. 

Siebel. 
You'd  better  not  repeat  those  words  again  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I  am  afraid  the  landlord  to  offend  ; 
Else  freely  would  I  treat  each  worthy  guest 
From  our  own  cellar  to  the  very  best. 

Siebel. 
Out  with  it  then  !    Your  doings  I'll  defend. 


FA  UST.  99 

Frosch. 
Give  a  good  glass,  and  straight  we'll  praise  you, 

one  and  all. 
Only  let  not  your  samples  be  too  small  ; 
For  if  my  judgment  you  desire, 
Certes,  an  ample  mouthful  I  require. 

Altmayer  {aside). 
I  guess,  they're  from  the  Rhenish  land. 

Mephistopheles. 
Fetch  me  a  gimlet  here  ! 

Brander. 

Say,  what  therewith  to  bore  ? 
You  cannot  have  the  wine- casks  at  the  door  ? 

Altmayer. 
Our  landlord's  tool-basket    behind  doth  yonder 
stand. 

Mephistopheles  {takes  the  gimlet.     To  Frosch). 
Now  only  say  !  what  liquor  will  you  take  ? 

Frosch. 
How  mean  you  that  ?  have  you  of  every  sort  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Each  may  his  own  selection  make. 

Altmayer  {to  Frosch). 
Ha !     Ha  !     You  lick   your  lips  already  at  the 
thought. 

Frosch. 
Good,  if  I  have  my  choice,  the  Rhenish  I  pro- 
pose ; 
For  still  the  fairest  gifts  the  fatherland  bestows. 


IOO  GOETHE'S 

MEPHISTOPHELES  {boring  a  hole  in  the  edge  of 

the  table  opposite  to  where  Frosch  is  sitting). 
Get  me  a  little  wax — and  make  some  stoppers — 
quick ! 

Altmayer. 
Why,  this  is  nothing  but  a  juggler's  trick  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (to  BRANDER). 

And  you  ? 

Brander. 
Champagne's  the  wine  for  me  ; 
Right  brisk,  and  sparkling  let  it  be  ! 

(MEPHISTOPHELES  bores,  one  of  the  party  has 
in  the  meantime  prepared  the  wax-stoppers 
and  stopped  the  holes.) 

Brander. 
What  foreign  is  one  always  can't  decline, 
What's  good  is  often  scatter'd  far  apart. 
The  French  your  genuine  German  hates  with  all 

his  heart, 
Yet  has  a  relish  for  their  wine. 

SlEBEL  (as  Mephistopheles  approaches  him). 
I  like  not  acid  wine,  I  must  allow, 
Give  me  a  glass  of  genuine  sweet ! 

Mephistopheles  (bores). 
Tokay 
Shall,  if  you  wish  it,  flow  without  delay. 

Altmayer. 
Come  !  look  me  in  the  face  !  no  fooling  now  ! 
You  are  but  making  fun  of  us,  I  trow. 


FAUST.  IOI 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Ah !  ah  !  that  would  indeed  be  making  free 
With  such  distinguished  guests.  Come,  no  delay  ; 
What  liquor  can  I  serve  you  with,  I  pray  ? 

Altmayer.  '-  * 
Only  be  quick,  it  matters  not  %o  me,  _        -  -,   •  x 

MEPHISTOPHELES  (aficr  the  hclee  are  all  bored  and 
stopped \  with  strange  gestures). 
Grapes  the  vine-stock  bears, 
Horns  the  buck-goat  wears  ! 
Wine  is  sap,  the  vine  is  wood, 
The  wooden  board  yields  wine  as  good. 
With  a  deeper  glance  and  true 
The  mysteries  of  nature  view  ! 
Have  faith  and  here's  a  miracle  ! 
Your  stoppers  draw  and  drink  your  fill ! 

All  {as  they  draw  the  stoppers  and  the  wine  chosen 

by  each  runs  into  his  glass). 
Oh  beauteous  spring,  which  flows  so  fair  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Spill  not  a  single  drop,  of  this  beware  ! 

( They  drink  repeatedly. ) 

All  {sing). 
Happy  as  cannibals  are  we, 
Or  as  five  hundred  swine. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

They're  in  their  glory,  mark  their  elevation  ! 

Faust. 
Let's  hence,  nor  here  our  stay  prolong. 


I0  2  GOETHE'S 

Mephistopheles. 
Attend,  of  brutishness  erelong 
You'll  see  a  glorious  revelation. 

SlEBEL  {drinks  carelessly ;  the  wine  is  spilt  upon 

the  ground,  and  turns  tojlame). 
Help!  lire!  help!    Hell  .is  burning ! 

Mkphistophel"^  (addressing  the  flames). 
Stop, 
Kind  element,  be  still,  I  say  ! 

( To  the  Company?) 
Of  purgatorial  fire  as  yet  'tis  but  a  drop. 

Siebel. 
What  means  the  knave  ?     For  this  you'll  dearly 

pay! 
Us,  it  appears,  you  do  not  know. 

Frosch. 
Such  tricks  a  second  time  he'd  better  show  ! 

Altmayer. 
Methinks  'twere  well  we  pack'd  him  quietly  away. 

Siebel. 
What,  sir  !  with  us  your  hocus-pocus  play  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Silence,  old  wine-cask ! 

Siebel. 
How !  add  insult,  too  ! 
Vile  broomstick  ! 

Brander. 
Hold  !  or  blows  shall  rain  on  you  I 


FAUST.  I03 

AltmAYER  {draws  a  stopper  out  of  the  table  j  fire 
springs  out  against  him). 

I  burn  !  I  burn  ! 

Siebel. 

'Tis  sorcery,  I  vow  ! 
Strike  home  !    The  fellow  is  fair  game,  I  trow  ! 
{They  draw  their  knives  and  attack  Mephis- 

TOPHELES.) 

Mephistopheles  (with  solemn  gestures). 
Visionary  scenes  appear ! 
"Words  delusive  cheat  the  ear  ! 
Be  ye  there,  and  be  ye  here  ! 
(They  stand  amazed  and  gaze  on  each  other.) 

Altmayer. 
Where  am  I  ?    What  a  beauteous  land  ! 

Frosch. 
Vineyards  !  unless  my  sight  deceives  ? 

Siebel. 
And  clust'ring  grapes  too,  close  at  hand ! 

Brander. 
And  underneath  the  spreading  leaves, 
What  stems  there  be  !     What  grapes  I  see  ! 

(He  seizes  Siebel  by  the  nose.  The  others 
reciprocally  do  the  same,  and  draw  their 
knives.) 

Mephistopheles  (as  above). 
Delusion,  from  their  eyes  the  bandage  take  ! 
Note  how  the  devil  loves  a  jest  to  break  ! 

(He  disappears  with  Faust  ;  the  fellows  draw 
back  fro??i  one  another.) 


104  GOETHE'S 

SlEBEL. 
What  was  it  ? 

Altmayer. 
How  ? 

Frosch. 

Was  that  your  nose  ? 
BrAnder  (to  Siebel). 
And  look,  my  hand  doth  thine  enclose  ! 

Altmayer. 
I  felt  a  shock,  it  went  through  every  limb  ! 
A  chair  !  I'm  fainting  !    All  things  swim  ! 

Frosch. 
Say  what  has  happened,  what's  it  all  about  ? 

Siebel. 
Where  is  the  fellow  ?     Could  I  scent  him  out, 
His  body  from  his  soul  I'd  soon  divide  ! 

Altmayer. 
With  my  own  eyes,  upon  a  cask  astride, 

Forth  through  the  cellar-door  I  saw  him  ride 

Heavy  as  lead  my  feet  are  growing. 

(Turning  to  the  table?) 
WTould  that  the  wine  again  were  flowing  ! 

Siebel. 
'Twas  all  delusion,  cheat  and  lie. 

Frosch. 
'Twas  wine  I  drank,  most  certainly. 

Brander. 
What  of  the  grapes  too, — where  are  they  ? 


i°5 


Altmayer. 
Who  now  will  miracles  gainsay  ? 


Witches'  Kitchen.  A  large  caldron  hangs  over 
the  fire  on  a  low  hearth  ;  various  figures  appear 
in  the  vapor  rising  from  it.  A  Female 
Monkey  sits  beside  the  caldron  to  skim  it,  and 
ivatch  that  it  does  not  boil  over.  The  Male 
Monkey  with  the  young  ones  is  seated  near, 
wanning  himself.  The  walls  and  ceiling  are 
adorned  zvith  the  strangest  articles  of  witch- 
furniture.     Faust,  Mephistopheles. 

Faust. 
This  senseless,  juggling  witchcraft  I  detest  ! 
Dost  promise  that  in  this  foul  nest 
Of  madness,  I  shall  be  restored  ? 
Must  I  seek  counsel  from  an  ancient  dame  ? 
And  can  she,  by  these  rites  abhorred, 
Take  thirty  winters  from  my  frame  ? 
Woe's  me,  if  thou  naught  better  canst  suggest  ! 
Hope  has  already  fled  my  breast. 
Has  neither  nature  nor  a  noble  mind 
A  balsam  yet  devis'd  of  any  kind  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
My  friend,  you  now  speak  sensibly.     In  truth, 
Nature  a  method  giveth  to  renew  thy  youth  : 
But  in  another  book  the  lesson's  writ  ; — 
It  forms  a  curious  chapter,  I  admit. 

Faust. 
I  fain  would  know  it. 

Mephistopheles. 

Good  !    A  remedy 


io6 


GOETHE'S 


Without  physician,  gold,  or  sorcery : 
Away  forthwith,  and  to  the  fields  repair, 
Begin  to  delve,  to  cultivate  the  ground, 
Thy  senses  and  thyself  confine 
Within  the  very  narrowest  round, 
Support  thyself  upon  the  simplest  fare, 
Live  like  a  very  brute  the  brutes  among, 
Neither  esteem  it  robbery 
The  acre  thou  dost  reap,  thyself  to  dung. 
This  the  best  method,  credit  me. 
Again  at  eighty  to  grow  hale  and  young. 

Faust. 
I  am  not  used  to  it,  nor  can  myself  degrade 
So  far,  as  in  my  hand  to  take  the  spade. 
For  this  mean  life  my  spirit  soars  too  high. 

Mephistopheles. 
Then  must  we  to  the  witch  apply  ! 

Faust. 
Will  none  but  this  old  beldame  do  ? 
Canst  not  thyself  the  potion  brew  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
A  pretty  play  our  leisure  to  beguile  ! 
A  thousand  bridges  I  could  build  meanwhile. 
Not  science  only  and  consummate  art, 
Patience  must  also  bear  her  part. 
A  quiet  spirit  worketh  whole  years  long  ; 
Time  only  makes  the  subtle  ferment  strong. 
And  all  things  that  belong  thereto 
Are  wondrous  and  exceeding  rare  ! 
The  devil  taught  her,  it  is  true  ; 
But  yet  the  draught  the  devil  can't  prepare. 

{Perceiving  the  beasts.) 
Look  yonder,  what  a  dainty  pair  ! 


AUST.  107 

Here  is  the  maid  !  the  knave  is  there  ! 

( To  the  beasts.) 
It  seems  your  dame  is  not  at  home  ? 

The  Monkeys. 
Gone  to  carouse, 
Out  of  the  house, 
Thro*  the  chimney  and  away  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
How  long  is  it  her  wont  to  roam  ? 
The  Monkeys. 
While  we  can  warm  our  paws  she'll  stay. 

Mephistopheles  (to  Faust). 
What  think  you  of  the  charming  creatures  ? 

Faust. 
I  loathe  alike  their  form  and  features  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Nay,  such  discourse,  be  it  confessed, 
Is  just  the  thing  that  pleases  me  the  best. 

( To  the  Monkeys.J 
Tell  me,  ye  whelps,  accursed  crew  ! 
What  stir  ye  in  the  broth  about  ? 

Monkeys. 
Coarse  beggar's  gruel  here  we  stew. 

Mephistopheles. 
Of  customers  you'll  have  a  rout. 

The  He-Monkey  (approaching  and  fawning  on 
Mephistopheles). 
Quick  !  quick  !  throw  the  dice, 
Make  me  rich  in  a  trice, 


io8 


GOETHE'S 


Oh  give  me  the  prize  ! 
Alas,  for  myself  ! 
Had  I  plenty  of  pelf, 
I  then  should  be  wise. 

Mephistopheles. 
How  blest  the  ape  would  think  himself,  if  he 
Could  only  put  into  the  lottery  ! 

{In  the  meantime  the  young  Monkeys  have 
been  playing  with  a  large  globe,  which  they 
roll  forward. ) 

The  He-Monkey. 
The  world  behold  ; 
Unceasingly  roll'd, 
It  riseth  and  falleth  ever  ; 
It  ringeth  like  glass  ! 
How  brittle,  alas  ! 
'Tis  hollow,  and  resteth  never. 
How  bright  the  sphere, 
Still  brighter  here  ! 
Now  living  am  I  ! 
Dear  son,  beware  ! 
Nor  venture  there  ! 
Thou  too  must  die  ! 
It  is  of  clay  ; 
'Twill  crumble  away  ; 
There  fragments  lie. 

Mephistopheles. 
Of  what  use  is  the  sieve  ? 

The  He-Monkey  {taking  it  down). 
The  sieve  would  show, 
If  thou  wert  a  thief  or  no  ? 


FAUST.  I09 

(He  runs  to  ///<?  She-Monkey,  and  makes  her 
look  through  it.) 

Look  through  the  sieve  ! 
Dost  know  him  the  thief, 
And  dar'st  thou  not  call  him  so  ? 

Mephistopheles  {approaching  thejire). 
And  then  this  pot  ? 

The  Monkeys. 
The  half-witted  sot  ! 
He  knows  not  the  pot ! 
He  knows  not  the  kettle  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Unmannerly  beast  ! 
Be  civil  at  least  ! 

The  He-Monkey. 
Take  the  whisk  and  sit  down  in  the  settle  ! 

(He  makes  Mephistopheles  sit  down.) 

FAUST  (who  all  this  time  has  been  standing  be- 
fore a  looking-glass,  nozv  approaching,  and  7101a 
retiring  from  it.) 
What  do  I  see  ?  what  form,  whose  charms  trans- 
cend 
The  loveliness  of  earth,  is  mirror'd  here  ? 
O  Love,  to  waft  me  to  her  sphere, 
To  me  the  swiftest  of  thy  pinions  lend  ! 
Alas  !     If  I  remain  not  rooted  to  this  place, 
If  to  approach  more  near  I'm  fondly  lur'd, 
Her  image  fades,  in  veiling  mist  obscur'd  ! — 
Model  of  beauty  both  in  form  and  face  ! 
Is't  possible  ?     Hath  woman  charms  so  rare  ? 
Is  this  recumbent  form,  supremely  fair, 
The  very  essence  of  all  heavenly  grace  ? 
Can  aught  so  exquisite  on  earth  be  found  ? 


HO  GOETHE'S 

Mephistopheles. 
The  six  days'  labor  of  a  god,  my  friend, 
Who  doth  himself  cry  bravo,  at  the  end, 
By  something  clever  doubtless  should  be  crown'd 
For  this  time  gaze  your  fill,  and  when  you  please 
Just  such  a  prize  for  you  I  can  provide  ; 
How  blest  is  he  to  whom  kind  fate  decrees, 
To  take  her  to  his  home,  a  lovely  bride  ! 

(Faust   continues   to  gaze  into  the  mirror, 
Mephistopheles,  stretching  hwiself on  the 
settle  and  playing  with  the  whisk,  continues 
to  speak. ) 
Here  sit  I,  like  a  king  upon  his  throne  ; 
My  sceptre  this  ; — the  crown  I  want  alone. 

The  Monkeys  {who  have  hitherto  been  peaking 
all  sorts  of  strange  gestures,  bring  Mephis- 
topheles a  crown,  with  loud  cries). 

Oh,  be  so  good, 

With  sweat  and  with  blood 

The  crown  to  lime  ! 
(  They  handle  the  irown  awkwardly  and  break 
it  in  two  pieces,  with  which  they  skip  about.) 

'Twas  fate's  decree  ! 

We  speak  and  see  ! 

We  hear  and  rhyme. 

Faust  {before  the  mirror). 
Woe's  me  !  well-nigh  distraught  I  feel  ! 

Mephistopheles  {pointing  to  the  beasts). 
And  even  my  own  head  almost  begins  to  reel. 

The  Monkeys. 
If  good  luck  attend, 
If  fitly  things  blend, 
Our  jargon  with  thought 
And  with  reason  fraught  ! 


FA  UST.  1 1 1 

Faust  (as  above). 
A  flame  is  kindled  in  my  breast  ! 
Let  us  begone  !  nor  linger  here  ! 

Mephistopheles  (in  the  same  position). 
It  now  at  least  must  be  confessed, 
That  poets  sometimes  are  sincere. 

(The  caldron  which  the  She- Monkey  has 
neglected  begins  to  boil  over;  a  great  flame 
arises,  which  streams  up  the  chimney.  The 
Witch  comes  down  the  chimney  with  horri- 
ble cries. ) 

The  Witch. 

Ough !  ough !  ough  !  ough  ! 
Accursed  brute  !  accursed  sow  ! 
Thou  dost  neglect  the  pot,  for  shame  ! 
Accursed  brute  to  scorch  the  dame  ! 

(Perceiving  Faust  and  Mephistopheles.) 
Whom  have  we  here  ? 
Who's  sneaking  here  ? 
Whence  are  ye  come  ? 
With  what  desire  ? 
The  plague  of  fire 
Your  bones  consume  ! 
(She  dips  the  skimming- ladle  into  tJie  caldron 
and  throws flames  at  Faust,  Mephistoph- 
eles, and  he  Monkeys.    The  Monkeys 
whimper.) 

Mephistopheles  (twirling  the  whisk  which  he 
holds  in  his  hand,  and  striking  among  the 
glasses  and  pots). 

Dash  !     Smash ! 
There  lies  the  glass  ! 


112  GOETHE'S 

There  lies  the  slime  ! 

'Tis  but  a  jest  ; 

I  but  keep  time, 

Thou  hellish  pest, 

To  thine  own  chime  ! 
(  While  the  Witch  steps  back  in  rage  and  as* 
tonishment. ) 
Dost  know  me  !    Skeleton  !    Vile  scarecrow,  thou! 
Thy  lord  and  master  dost  thou  know  ? 
What  holds  me,  that  I  deal  not  now 
Thee  and  thine  apes  a  stunning  blow  ? 
No  more  respect  to  my  red  vest  dost  pay  ? 
Does  my  cock's  feather  no  allegiance  claim  ? 
Have  I  my  visage  masked  to-day  ? 
Must  I  be  forced  myself  to  name  ? 

The  Witch. 
Master,  forgive  this  rude  salute  ! 
But  I  perceive  no  cloven  foot. 
And  your  two  ravens,  where  are  they  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
This  once  I  must  admit  your  plea  ; — 
For  truly  I  must  own  that  we 
Each  other  have  not  seen  for  many  a  day. 
The  culture,  too,  that  shapes  the  world,  at  last 
Hath  e'en  the  devil  in  its  sphere  embraced  ; 
The    northern    phantom  from    the  scene    hath 

pass'd. 
Tail,  talons,  horns,  are  nowhere  to  be  traced  ! 
As  for  the  foot,  with  which  I  can't  dispense, 
'Twould  injure  me  in  company,  and  hence, 
Like  many  a  youthful  cavalier, 
False  calves  I  now  have  worn  for  many  a  year. 


FAUST.  113 

The  Witch  {dancing). 
I  am  beside  myself  with  joy, 
To  see  once  more  the  gallant  Satan  here  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Woman,  no  more  that  name  employ  ! 

The  Witch. 
But  why  ?  what  mischief  hath  it  done  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
To  fable  it  too  long  hath  appertained  ; 
But  people  from  the  change  have  nothing  won. 
Rid  of  the  evil  one,  the  evil  has  remained. 
Lord  Baron  call  thou  me,  so  is  the  matter  good  ; 
Of  other  cavaliers  the  mien  I  wear. 
Dost  make  no  question  of  my  gentle  blood  ; 
See  here,  this  is  the  scutcheon  that  I  bear  ! 

{He  makes  an  unseemly  gesture.') 

The  Witch  {laughing  immoderately). 
Ha!    Ha!    Just  like  yourself  !    You  are,  I  ween, 
The  same  mad  wag  that  you  have  ever  been  ! 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust). 
My  friend,  learn  this  to  understand,  I  pray  J 
To  deal  with  witches  this  is  still  the  way. 

The  Witch. 
Now  tell  me,  gentlemen,  what  you  desire  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Of  your  known  juice  a  goblet  we  require, 
But  for  the  very  oldest  let  me  ask  ; 
Double  its  strength  with  years  doth  grow. 


114  GOETHE'S 

The  Witch. 
Most  willingly  !     And  here  I  have  a  flask, 
From  which  I've  sipp'd  myself  ere  now  ; 
What's  more,  it  doth  no  longer  stink  ; 
To  you  a  glass  I  joyfully  will  give. 

{Aside.) 
If  unprepar'd,  however,  this  man  drink, 
He  hath  not,  as  you  know,  an  hour  to  live. 

Mephistopheles. 

He's  my  good  friend,  with  whom  'twill  prosper 
well  ; 

I  grudge  him  not  the  choicest  of  thy  store. 

Now  draw  thy  circle,  speak  thy  spell, 

And  straight  a  bumper  for  him  pour  ! 

{The  Witch,  with  extraordinary  gestures, 
describes  a  circle,  and  places  strange  things 
within  it.  The  glasses  meanwhile  begin  to 
ring,  the  caldron  to  sound,  and  to  make 
music.  Lastly,  she  brings  a  great  book ; 
places  the  Monkeys  in  the  circle  to  serve 
her  as  a  desk,  and  to  hold  the  torches.  She 
beckoiis  Faust  to  approach.) 

Faust  {to  Mephistopheles). 
Tell  me,  to  what  doth  all  this  tend  ? 
Where  will  these  frantic  gestures  end  ? 
This  loathsome  cheat,  this  senseless  stuff 
I've  known  and  hated  long  enough. 

Mephistopheles. 
Mere  mummery,  a  laugh  to  raise  ! 
Pray  don't  be  so  fastidious  !     She 
But  as  a  leech  her  hocus-pocus  plays, 
That  well  with  you  her  potion  may  agree. 

{He  compels  Faust  to  enter  the  circle.) 


FAUST.  115 

The    Witch   {with   great  emphasis ;   begins  to 
declaim  from  the  book). 

This  must  thou  ken  : 

Of  one  make  ten, 

Pass  two,  and  then 

Make  square  the  three, 

So  rich  thou'lt  be. 

Drop  out  the  four  ! 

From  five  and  six, 

Thus  says  the  witch, 

Make  seven  and  eight. 

So  all  is  straight ! 

And  nine  is  one, 

And  ten  is  none, 

This  is  the  witch's  one-time-one  ! 

Faust. 
The  hag  doth  as  in  fever  rave. 

Mephistopheles. 
To  these  will  follow  many  a  stave. 
I  know  it  well,  so  rings  the  book  throughout ; 
Much  time  I've  lost  in  puzzling  o'er  its  pages, 
For  downright  paradox,  no  doubt, 
A  mystery  remains  alike  to  fools  and  sages. 
Ancient  the  art  and  modern  too,  my  friend. 
'Tis  still  the  fashion  as  it  used  to  be, 
Error  instead  of  truth  abroad  to  send 
By  means  of  three  and  one,  and  one  and  three. 
'Tis  ever  taught  and  babbled  in  the  schools. 
Who'd  take  the  trouble  to  dispute  with  fools  ? 
When   words  men  hear,   in  sooth,  they  usually 

believe, 
That  there  must  needs  therein  be  something  to 

conceive. 


11 6  GOETHE'S 

The  Witch  (continues). 

The  lofty  power 

Of  wisdom's  dower, 

From  all  the  world  conceal'd  ! 

Who  thinketh  not, 

To  him  I  wot, 

Unsought  it  is  reveal'd. 

Faust. 
What  nonsense  doth  the  hag- "propound  ? 
My  brain  it  doth  well-nigh  confound. 
A  hundred  thousand  fools  or  more, 
Methinks  I  hear  in  chorus  roar. 

Mephistopheles. 
Incomparable  Sibyl  cease,  I  pray  ! 
Hand  us  thy  liquor  without  more  delay. 
And  to  the  very  brim  the  goblet  crown  ! 
My  friend  he  is,  and  need  not  be  afraid  ; 
Besides,  he  is  a  man  of  many  a  grade, 
Who  hath  drunk  deep  already. 

(The  Witch,  with  many  ceremonies ,  pours  the 

liquor  into  a  cup  ;  as  Faust  lifts  it  to  his 

mouth,  a  light  fame  arises.) 

Mephistopheles. 

Gulp  it  down ! 
No  hesitation  !     It  will  prove 
A  cordial,  and  your  heart  inspire  ! 
What  !  with  the  devil  hand  and  glove 
And  yet  shrink  back  afraid  of  fire  ? 
(The  Witch  dissolves  the    circle.      Faust 
steps  out.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Now  forth  at  once  !  thou  dar'st  not  rest. 


FA  UST.  117 

Witch. 
And  much,  sir,  may  the  liquor  profit  you  ! 
Mephistopheles  {to  Ike  Witch). 
And  if  to  pleasure  thee  I  aught  can  do, 
Pray  on  Walpurgis  mention  thy  request. 

Witch. 
Here  is  a  song,  sung  o'er  sometimes,  you'll  see, 
That  'twill  a  singular  effect  produce. 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust). 
Come,  quick,  and  let  thyself  be  led  by  me  ; 
Thou  must  perspire,  in  order  that  the  juice 
Thy  frame  may  penetrate  through  every  part. 
Thy  noble  idleness  I'll  teach  thee  then  to  prize, 
And  soon  with  ecstasy  thou 'It  recognize 
How  Cupid  stirs  and  gambols  in  thy  heart. 

Faust. 
Let  me  but  gaze  one  moment  in  the  glass  ! 
Too  lovely  was  that  female  form  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Nay  !  nay  ! 
A  model  which  all  women  shall  surpass, 
In  flesh  and  blood  erelong  thou  shalt  survey. 

{Aside.) 
As  works  the  draught,  thou  presently  shalt  greet 
A  Helen  in  each  woman  thou  dost  meet. 


A  Street.     FAUST.     Margaret  passing  by, 
Faust. 
Fair  lady,  may  I  thus  make  free 
To  offer  you  my  arm  and  company  ? 


us  goethe's 

Margaret. 
I  am  no  lady,  am  not  fair, 
Can  without  escort  home  repair. 

{She  disengages  herself  and  exit.) 

Faust. 
By  heaven  !     This  girl  is  fair  indeed  1 
No  form  like  hers  can  I  recall. 
Virtue  she  hath,  and  modest  heed, 
Is  piquant  too,  and  sharp  withal. 
Her  cheek's  soft  light,  her  rosy  lips, 
No  length  of  time  will  e'er  eclipse  ! 
Her  downward  glance  in  passing  by 
Deep  in  my  heart  is  stamp 'd  for  aye  ; 
How  curt  and  sharp  her  answer  too, 
My  ravish'd  heart  to  rapture  grew  ! 

(Mephistopheles  enters). 
Faust. 
This  girl  must  win  for  me  !     Dost  hear  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Which  ? 

Faust. 
She  who  but  now  passed. 
Mephistopheles. 

What!  She? 
She  from  confession  cometh  here, 
From  every  sin  absolved  and  free  ; 
I  crept  near  the  confessor's  chair. 
All  innocence  her  virgin  soul, 
For  next  to  nothing  went  she  there  ; 
O'er  such  as  she  I've  no  control ! 

Faust. 
She's  past  fourteen. 


ii9 


Mephistopheles. 


You  really  talk 
Like  any  gay  Lothario, 
Who  every  floweret  from  its  stalk 
Would  pluck,  and  deems  nor  grace,  nor  truth, 
Secure  against  his  arts,  forsooth  ! 
This  ne'ertheless  won't  always  do. 

Faust. 

Sir  Moralizer,  prithee,  pause  ; 
Nor  plague  me  with  your  tiresome  laws  ! 
To  cut  the  matter  short,  my  friend, 
She  must  this  very  night  be  mine, — 
And  if  to  help  me  you  decline, 
Midnight  shall  see  our  compact  end. 

Mephistopheles. 

What  may  occur  just  bear  in  mind  ! 
A  fortnight's  space,  at  least,  I  need, 
A  fit  occasion  but  to  find. 

Faust. 

With  but  seven  hours  I  could  succeed  £ 
Nor  should  I  want  the  devil's  wile, 
So  young  a  creature  to  beguile. 

Mephistopheles. 

Like  any  Frenchman  now  you  speak, 
But  do  not  fret,  I  pray;  why  seek 
To  hurry  to  enjoyment  straight  ? 
The  pleasure  is  not  half  so  great, 
As  when  at  first,  around,  above, 
With  all  the  fooleries  of  love, 
The  puppet  you  can  knead  and  mould 
As  in  Italian  story  oft  is  told. 


120  GOETHE'S 

Faust. 
No  such  incentives  do  I  need. 

Mephistopheles. 
But  now,  without  offence  or  jest ! 
You  cannot  quickly,  I  protest, 
In  winning  this  sweet  child  succeed. 
By  storm  we  cannot  take  the  fort, 
To  stratagem  we  must  resort. 

Faust. 
Conduct  me  to  her  place  of  rest  ! 
Some  token  of  the  angel  bring  ! 
A  kerchief  from  her  snowy  breast, 
A  garter  bring  me, — anything  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
That  I  my  anxious  zeal  may  prove, 
Your  pangs  to  sooth  and  aid  your  love, 
A  single  moment  will  we  not  delay, 
Will  lead  you  to  her  room  this  very  day. 

Faust. 
And  shall  I  see  her  ? — Have  her  ? 
Mephistopheles. 

No! 
She  to  a  neighbor's  house  will  go  ; 
But  in  her  atmosphere  alone, 
The  tedious  hours  meanwhile  you  may  employ, 
In  blissful  dreams  of  future  joy. 

Faust. 
Can  we  go  now  ? 

Mephistopheles. 

'Tis  yet  too  soon. 


FA  UST.  121 

Faust. 
Some  present  for  my  love  procure  !  {Exit.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Presents  so  soon  !  'tis  well  !  success  is  sure  ! 
I  know  full  many  a  secret  store 
Of  treasure,  buried  long  before, 
I  must  a  little  look  them  o'er.  {Exit. ) 


Evening.     A  small  and  neat  Room. 
Margaret  {braiding  and  binding  up  her  hair). 
I  would  give  something  now  to  know, 
Who  yonder  gentleman  could  be  ! 
He  had  a  gallant  air,  I  trow, 
And  doubtless  was  of  high  degree  : 
That  written  on  his  brow  was  seen — 
Nor  else  would  he  so  bold  have  been.         {Exit.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Come  in  !  tread  softly  !  be  discreet  ! 
Faust  {after  a  pause). 
Begone  and  leave  me,  I  entreat  ! 

Mephistopheles  {looking  round). 
Not  every  maiden  is  so  neat.  {Exit.) 

Faust  {gazing  round). 
Welcome,  sweet  twilight  gloom  which  reigns 
Through  this  dim  place  of  hallow'd  rest  ! 
Fond  yearning  love,  inspire  my  breast, 
Feeding  on  hope's  sweet  dew  thy  blissful  pains  J 
What  stillness  here  environs  me  ! 
Content  and  order  brood  around. 
What  fulness  in  this  poverty  ! 
In  this  small  cell  what  bliss  profound  ! 


122  GOETHE'S 

{Fie  throws  himself  on  the  leather  arm-chair 

beside  the  bed.) 
Receive  me  thou,  who  hast  in  thine  embrace 
Welcom'd  in  joy  and  grief  the  ages  flown  ! 
How  oft  the  children  of  a  by-gone  race 
Have  cluster'd  round  this  patriarchal  throne  ! 
Haply  she,  also,  whom  I  hold  so  dear, 
For  Christmas  gift,  with  grateful  joy  possess'd, 
Hath  with   the  full   round  cheek  of  childhood, 

here, 
Her  grandsire's  wither'd  hand  devoutly  press'd. 
Maiden  !  I  feel  thy  spirit  haunt  the  place, 
Breathing  of  order  and  abounding  grace. 
As  with  a  mother's  voice,  it  prompteth  thee, 
The  pure  white  cover  o'er  the  board  to  spread, 
To  strew  the  crisping  sand  beneath  thy  tread. 
Dear  hand  !  so  godlike  in  its  ministry ! 
The  hut  becomes  a  paradise  through  thee  ! 
And  here —  {He  raises  the  bed-curtain?) 

How  thrills  my  pulse  with  strange  delight  ! 
Here  could  I  linger  hours  untold  ; 
Thou,  Nature,  didst  in  vision  bright, 
The  embryo  angel  here  unfold. 
Here  lay  the  child,  her  bosom  warm 
With  life  ;  while  steeped  in  slumber's  dew, 
To  perfect  grace  her  godlike  form 
With  pure  and  hallow 'd  weavings  grew  ! 

And  thou  !  ah  here  what  seekest  thou  ? 

How  quails  mine  inmost  being  now  ! 

What  wouldst  thou  here  ?  what  makes  thy  heart 

so  sore  ? 
Unhappy  Faust  !     I  know  thee  now  no  more. 

Do  I  a  magic  atmosphere  inhale  ? 

Erewhile,  my  passion  would  not  brook  delay  1 


FAUST.  123 

Now  in  a  pure  love  dream  I  melt  away. 
Are  we  the  sport  of  every  passing  gale  ? 

Should  she  return  and  enter  now, 
How  wouldst  thou  rue  thy  guilty  flame  ! 
Proud  vaunter — thou  wouldst  hide  thy  brow, — 
And  at  her  feet  sink  down  with  shame. 

Meph  istopheles. 
Quick  !  Quick  !  below  I  see  her  there. 

Faust. 
Away  !  I  will  return  no  more  ! 
Meph  istopheles. 
Here  is  a  casket,  with  a  store 
Of  jewels,  which  I  got  elsewhere. 
Just  lay  it  in  the  press  ;  make  haste  ! 
I  swear  to  you,  'twill  turn  her  brain  ; 
Therein  some  trifles  I  have  placed, 
Wherewith  another  to  obtain. 
But  child  is  child,  and  play  is  play. 

Faust. 
I  know  not — shall  I  ? 

Mephistopheles. 

Do  you  ask  ? 
Perchance  you  would  retain  the  treasure  ? 
If  such  your  wish,  why  then,  I  say, 
Henceforth  absolve  me  from  my  task. 
Nor  longer  waste  your  hours  of  leisure. 
I  trust  you're  not  by  avarice  led  ! 
I  rub  my  hands,  I  scratch  my  head, — 

{He  places  the  casket  in  the  press  and  closes  the 
lock.) 
Now  quick  !    Away  ! 
That  soon  the  sweet  young  creature  may 


124  GOETHE'S 

The  wish  and  purpose  of  your  heart  obey  ; 

Yet  stand  you  there 

As  would  you  to  the  iecture-room  repair, 

As  if  before  you  ftood, 

Arrayed  in  flesh  and  blood, 

Physics  and  metaphysics  weird  and  gray  I — 

Away  ! 

Margaret  {with  a  lanip). 

It  is  so  close,  so  sultry  now, 

{She  opens  the  window?) 
Yet  out  of  dosi-3  'tis  not  so  warm. 
I  feel  so  strlnge,  I  know  not  how — 
I  wish  my  mother  would  come  home. 
Through  ne  there  runs  a  shuddering — 
I'm  but  3  foolish  timid  thing  ! 

(  Vfh'h  undressing  herself  she  begins  to  sing.) 

There  was  a  king  in  Thule, 

True  even  to  the  grave  ; 

To  whom  his  dying  mistress 

A  golden  beaker  gave. 

At  every  feast  he  drained  it. 
Naught  was  to  him  so  dear, 
And  often  as  he  drained  it, 
Gushed  from  his  eyes  the  tear. 

When  death  he  felt  approaching, 
His  cities  o'er  he  told  ; 
And  grudged  his  heir  no  treasure 
Except  his  cup  of  gold. 

Girt  round  with  knightly  vassals 
At  a  royal  feast  sat  he, 
In  yon  proud  hall  ancestral, 
In  his  castle  o'er  the  sea. 

Up  stood  the  jovial  monarch, 
And  quaff 'd  his  last  life's  glow, 


125 


Then  hurled  the  hallow'd  goblet 
Into  the  flood  below. 


He  saw  it  splashing,  drinking, 

And  plunging  in  the  sea  ; 

His  eyes  meanwhile  were  sinking, 

And  never  again  drank  he. 
{She  opens  the  press  to  put  away  her  clothes, 
and  perceives  the  casket?) 
How  comes  this  lovely  casket  here  ?     The  press 
I  locked,  of  that  I'm  confident. 
'Tis  very  wonderful  !    What's  in  it  I  can't  guess  ; 
Perhaps  'twas  brought  by  some  one  in  distress, 
And  left  in  pledge  for  loan  my  mother  lent. 
Here  by  a  ribbon  hangs  a  little  key  ! 
I  have  a  mind  to  open  it  and  see  ! 
Heavens  !  only  look  !  what  have  we  here  ? 
In  all  my  days  ne'er  saw  I  such  a  sight ! 
Jewels  !  which  any  noble  dame  might  wear, 
For  some  high  pageant  richly  dight ! 
How  would  the  necklace  look  on  me  ? 
These  splendid  gems,  whose  may  they  be  ? 

{She  puts  thou  on  and  steps  before  the  glass.) 
Were  but  the  ear-rings  only  mine  ! 
Thus  one  has  quite  another  air. 
What  boots  it  to  be  young  and  fair  ? 
It  doubtless  may  be  very  fine  ; 
But  then,  alas,  none  cares  for  you, 
And  praise  sounds  half  like  pity  too. 

Gold  all  doth  lure, 

Gold  doth  secure 

All  things.     Alas,  we  poor  ! 


126 


GOETHE'S 


Promenade.     Faust  walking  thoughtfully  up  and 
down.     To  him  Mephistopheles. 

Mephistopheles. 
By  love  despis'd  !     By  hell's  fierce  fires  I  curse, 
Would  I  knew  aught  to   make  my  imprecation 
worse  ! 

Faust. 
What  aileth  thee  ?  what  chafes  thee  now  so  sore  ? 
A  face  like  that  I  never  saw  before  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I'd  yield  me  to  the  devil  instantly, 
Did  it  not  happen  that  myself  am  he  ! 

Faust. 
There  must  be  some  disorder  in  thy  wit ! 
To  rave  thus  like  a  madman,  is  it  fit  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Just  think  !     The  gems  for  Gretchen  brought, 
Them  hath  a  priest  now  made  his  own  ! — 
A  glimpse  of  them  the  mother  caught, 
And  'gan  with  secret  fear  to  groan. 
The  woman's  scent  is  keen  enough  ; 
Doth  ever  in  the  prayer-book  snuff  ; 
Smells  every  article  to  ascertain 
Whether  the  thing  is  holy  or  profane, 
And  scented  in  the  jewels  rare, 
That  there  was  not  much  blessing  there. 
11  My  child,"  she  cries,  "  ill-gotten  good 
Ensares  the  soul,  consumes  the  blood  ; 
With  them  we'll  deck  our  Lady's  shrine, 
She'll  cheer  our  souls  with  bread  divine  !" 
At  this  poor  Gretchen  'gan  to  pout ; 
'Tis  a  gift-horse,  at  least,  she  thought, 


FAUST,  127 

And  sure,  he  godless  cannot  be, 

Who  brought  them  here  so  cleverly. 

Straight  for  a  priest  the  mother  sent, 

Who,  when  he  understood  the  jest, 

With  what  he  saw  was  well  content. 

M  This  shows  a  pious  mind  !"    Quoth  he  : 

"  Self-conquest  is  true  victory. 

The  Church  hath  a  good  stomach,  she,  with  zest, 

Hath  lands  and  kingdoms  swallow'd  down, 

And  never  yet  a  surfeit  known. 

The  Church  alone,  be  it  confessed, 

Daughters,  can  ill-got  wealth  digest." 

Faust. 
It  is  a  general  custom,  too, 
Practised  alike  by  king  and  jew. 

Mephistopheles. 
With  that,  clasp,  chain,  and  ring,  he  swept 
As  they  were  mushrooms  ;  and  the  casket, 
Without  one  word  of  thanks,  he  kept, 
As  if  of  nuts  it  were  a  basket. 
Promised  reward  in  heaven,  then  forth  he  hied — 
And  greatly  they  were  edified. 

Faust. 
And  Gretchen  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
In  unquiet  mood 
Knows  neither  what  she  would  or  should  ; 
The  trinkets  night  and  day  thinks  o'er, 
On  him  who  brought  them,  dwells  still  more. 

Faust. 
The  darling's  sorrow  grieves  me  ;  bring 
Another  set  without  delay  ! 
The  first,  methinks,  was  no  great  thing. 


128 


GOETHE'S 


Mephistopheles. 
All's  to  my  gentleman  child's  play  ! 

Faust. 
Plan  all  things  to  achieve  my  end  ! 
Engage  the  attention  of  her  friend  ! 
No  milk-and-water  devil  be, 
And  bring  fresh  jewels  instantly  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Ay,  sir  !     Most  gladly  I'll  obey.       (Faust  exit.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Your  doting  love-sick  fool,  with  ease, 
Merely  his  lady-love  to  please, 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars  in  sport  would  puff  away. 

{Exit.) 


The  Neighbor  s  House. 

Martha  {alone). 
God  pardon  my  dear  husband,  he 
Doth  not  in  truth  act  well  by  me  ! 
Forth  in  the  world  abroad  to  roam, 
And  leave  me  on  the  straw  at  home. 
Arid  yet  his  will  I  ne'er  did  thwart, 
God  knows,  I  lov'd  him  from  my  heart. 

{She  weeps.) 
Perchance  he's  dead  ! — oh  wretched  state  ! — 
Had  I  but  a  certificate  !  (Margaret  comes.) 

Margaret. 
Dame  Martha  I 

Martha. 
Gretchen  ? 


FAUST.  I29 

Margaret. 

Only  think  ! 
My  knees  beneath  me  well-nigh  sink ! 
Within  my  press  I've  found  to-day 
Another  case,  of  ebony. 
And  things — magnificent  they  are, 
More  costly  than  the  first,  by  far. 

Martha. 
You  must  not  name  it  to  your  mother  ! 
It  would  to  shrift,  just  like  the  other. 

Margaret. 
Nay,  look  at  them  !  now  only  see  ! 

Martha  (dresses  her  up). 
Thou  happy  creature  ! 

Margaret. 

Woe  is  me  ! 
Them  in  the  street  I  cannot  wear, 
Or  in  the  church,  or  anywhere. 

Martha. 
Come  often  over  here  to  me, 
The  gems  put  on  quite  privately  ; 
And  then  before  the  mirror  walk  an  hour  or  so, 
Thus  we  shall  have  our  pleasure  too. 
Then  suitable  occasions  we  must  seize, 
As  at  a  feast,  to  show  them  by  degrees  : 
A  chain  at  first,  then  ear-drops, — and  your  mother 
Won't  see  them,  or  we'll  coin  some  tale  or  other. 

Margaret. 
But  who,  I  wonder,  could  the  caskets  bring  ? 
I  fear  there's  something  wrong  about  the  thing  ! 

(A  knock.) 
Good  heavens  !  can  that  my  mother  be  ? 


1 3°  GOETHE'S 

Martha  {peering  through  the  blind), 

'Tis  a  strange  gentleman,  I  see. 

Come  in  !  (Mephistopheles  enters?) 

Mephistopheles. 

I've  ventur'd  to  intrude  to-day. 
Ladies,  excuse  the  liberty,  I  pray. 

{He  steps  back  respectfully  before  Margaret.) 
After  dame  Martha  Schwerdtlein  I  inquire  ! 

Martha. 
'Tis  I.     Pray  what  have  you  to  say  to  me  ? 

Mephistopheles  {aside  to  her). 

I  know  you  now, — and  therefore  will  retire  ; 
At  present  you've  distinguished  company. 
Pardon  the  freedom,  madam,  with  your  leave, 
I  will  make  free  to  call  again  at  eve. 

Martha  {aloud). 

Why,  child,  of  all  strange  notions,  he 
For  some  grand  lady  taketh  thee  ! 

Margaret. 

I  am,  in  truth,  of  humble  blood — 
The  gentleman  is  far  too  good — 
Nor  gems  nor  trinkets  are  my  own. 

Mephistopheles. 

Oh,  'tis  not  the  mere  ornaments  alone  ; 
Her  glance  and  mien  far  more  betray. 
Rejoiced  I  am  that  I  may  stay. 

Martha. 
Your  business,  sir  ?     I  long  to  know — 


x3* 


Mephistopheles. 
Would  I  could  happier  tidings  show  ! 
I  trust  mine  errand  you'll  not  let  me  rue  ; 
Your  husband's  dead,  and  greeteth  you. 

Martha. 
Is  dead  ?     True  heart  !     Oh  misery  ! 
My  husband  dead  !     Oh,  I  shall  die  ! 

Margaret. 
Alas  !  good  Martha  !  don't  despair  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Now  listen  to  the  sad  affair  ! 

Margaret. 
I  for  this  cause  should  fear  to  love. 
The  loss  my  certain  death  would  prove. 

Mephistopheles. 
Joy  still  must  sorrow,  sorrow  joy  attend. 

Martha. 
Proceed,  and  tell  the  story  of  his  end  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
At  Padua,  in  St.  Anthony's, 
In  holy  ground  his  body  lies  ; 
Quiet  and  cool  his  place  of  rest, 
With  pious  ceremonials  blest. 

Martha. 
And  had  you  naught  besides  to  bring  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Oh  yes  !  one  grave  and  solemn  prayer ; 
Let  them  for  him  three  hundred  masses  sing  \ 
But  in  my  pockets,  I  have  nothing  there. 


I32  GOETHE'S 

Martha. 
No  trinket  !  no  love-token  did  he  send  ! 
What  every  journeyman  safe  in  his  pouch   will 

hoard, 
There  for  remembrance  fondly  stored, 
And  rather  hungers,  rather  begs  than  spend  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Madam,  in  truth,  it  grieves  me  sore, 
But  he  his  gold  not  lavishly  hath  spent. 
His  failings  too  he  deeply  did  repent, 
Ay  !  and  his  evil  plight  bewail'd  still  more. 

Margaret. 
Alas  !     That  men  should  thus  be  doomed  to  woe . 
I  for  his  soul  will  many  a  requiem  pray. 

Mephistopheles. 
A  husband  you  deserve  this  very  day  ; 
A  child  so  worthy  to  be  loved. 

Margaret. 

Ah  no, 
That  time  hath  not  yet  come  for  me. 

Mephistopheles. 
If  not  a  spouse,  a  gallant  let  it  be. 
Among  Heaven's  choicest  gifts,  I  place, 
So  sweet  a  darling  to  embrace. 

Margaret. 
Our  land  doth  no  such  usage  know. 

Mephistopheles. 
Usage  or  not,  it  happens  so. 
Martha, 
Go  on,  I  pray  ! 


FAUST.  133 

Mephistopheles. 
I  stood  by  his  bedside. 
Something  less  foul  it  was  than  dung  ; 
'Twas  straw  half  rotten  ;  yet,  he  as  a  Christian 

died. 
And  sorely  hath  remorse  his  conscience  wrung. 
"Wretch  that   I  was,"  quoth  he,  with  parting 

breath, 
"  So  to  forsake  my  business  and  my  wife  ! 
Ah  !  the  remembrance  is  my  death. 
Could  I  but  have  her  pardon  in  this  life  V — 

Martha  {weeping). 
Dear  soul  !    I've  long  forgiven  him,  indeed  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
"  Though  she,  God  knows,  was  more  to  blame 
than  I." 

Martha. 
What,  on  the  brink  of  death  assert  a  lie  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
If  I  am  skill'd  the  countenance  to  read, 
He  doubtless  fabled  as  he  parted  hence. — 
1 '  No  time  had  I  to  gape,  or  take  my  ease,"  he  said. 
"  First  to  get  children,  and  then  get  them  bread  ; 
And  bread,  too,  in  the  very  widest  sense  ; 
Nor  could  I  eat  in  peace  even  my  proper  share." 

Martha. 
What,  all  my  truth,  my  love  forgotten  quite  ? 
My  weary  drudgery  by  day  and  night  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Not  so  !     He  thought  of  you  with  tender  care. 
Quoth  he :    "  Heaven   knows   how   fervently   I 
prayed 


134  GOETHE'S 

For  wife  and  children  when  from  Malta  bound  ; — 
The  prayer  hath  Heaven  with  favor  crowned  ; 
We  took  a  Turkish  vessel  which  conveyed 
Rich  store  of  treasure  for  the  Sultan's  court ; 
It's  own  reward  our  gallant  action  brought ; 
The  captur'd  prize  was  shared  among  the  crew, 
And  of  the  treasure  I  received  my  due." 

Martha. 
How?    Where?     The  treasure  hath  he  buried, 

pray  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Where  the  four  winds  have  blown  it,  who  can 

say? 
In  Naples  as  he  stroll'd,  a  stranger  there, 
A  comely  maid  took  pity  on  my  friend  ; 
And  gave  such  tokens  of  her  love  and  care, 
That  he  retained  them  to  his  blessed  end. 

Martha. 
Scoundrel  !  to  rob  his  children  of  their  bread  ! 
And  all  this  misery,  this  bitter  need, 
Could  not  his  course  of  recklessness  impede  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Well,  he  hath  paid  the  forfeit,  and  is  dead. 
Now  were  I  in  your  place,  my  counsel  hear  ; 
My  weeds  I'd  wear  for  one  chaste  year, 
And  for  another  lover  meanwhile  would  look  out. 

Martha. 
Alas,  I  might  search  far  and  near, 
Not  quickly  should  I  find  another  like  my  first  J 
There  could  not  be  a  fonder  fool  than  mine, 
Only  he  loved  too  well  abroad  to  roam  ! 
Loved  foreign  women  too,  and  foreign  wine, 
And  loved  besides  the  dice  accurs'd. 


FAUST.  135 

Mephistopheles. 
All  had  gone  swimmingly,  no  doubt, 
Had  he  but  given  you  at  home, 
On  his  side,  just  as  wide  a  range. 
Upon  such  terms,  to  you  I  swear, 
Myself  with  you  would  gladly  rings  exchange  ! 

Martha. 
The  gentleman  is  surely  pleas'd  to  jest ! 

Mephistopheles  {aside). 
Now  to  be  off  in  time,  were  best ! 
She'd  make  the  very  devil  marry  her: 

(To  Margaret.) 
How  fares  it  with  your  heart  ? 

Margaret. 

How  mean  you,  sir  ? 
Mephistopheles. 

The  sweet  young  innocent  ! 

(Aloud.) 
Ladies,  farewell  ! 

Margaret. 
Farewell ! 

Martha. 
But  ere  you  leave  us,  quickly  tell ! 
I  from  a  witness  fain  had  heard, 
Where,  how,  and  when  my  husband  died  and  was 

interr'd. 
To  forms  I've  always  been  attached  indeed, 
His  death  I  fain  would  in  the  journals  read. 

Mephistopheles. 
Ay,  madam,  what  two  witnesses  declare 
Is  held  as  valid  everywhere  ; 


13^  GOETHE'S 

A  gallant  friend  I  have,  not  far  from  here, 
Who  will  for  you  before  the  judge  appear. 
I'll  bring  him  straight. 

Martha. 

I  pray  you  do  ! 
Mephistopheles. 
And  this  young  lady,  we  shall  find  her  too  ? 
A  noble  youth,  far  travelled,  he 
Shows  to  the  sex  all  courtesy. 

Margaret. 
I  in  his  presence  needs  must  blush  for  shame. 

Mephistopheles. 
Not  in  the  presence  of  a  crowned  king  ! 

Martha. 
The  garden,  then,  behind  my  house  we'll  name, 
There  we'll  await  you  both  this  evening. 


A  street.    Faust.     Mephistopheles. 

Faust. 

How  is  it  now  ?     How  speeds  it  ?    Is't  in  train  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Bravo  !     I  find  you  all  aflame  ! 
Gretchen  full  soon  your  own  you'll  name. 
This  eve,  at  neighbor  Martha's,  her  you'll  meet 

again  ; 
The  woman  seems  expressly  made 
To  drive  the  pimp  and  gypsy's  trade. 

Faust. 
Good  ! 


FAUST.  137 

Mephistopheles. 
But  from  us  she  something  would  request. 

Faust. 
A  favor  claims  return  as  this  world  goes. 

Mephistopheles. 
We  have  on  oath  but  duly  to  attest, 
That  her  dead  husband's  limbs,  outstretch'd,  re- 
pose 
In  holy  ground  at  Padua. 

Faust. 

Sage  indeed  ! 
So  I  suppose  we  straight  must  journey  there  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Sancta  simplicitas  /     For  that  no  need  ! 
Without  much  knowledge  we  have  but  to  swear, 

Faust. 
If  you  have  nothing  better  to  suggest, 
Against  your  plan  I  must  at  once  protest. 

Mephistopheles. 

Oh,  holy  man  !    methinks  I  have  you  there  ! 

In  all  your  life  say,  have  you  ne'er 

False  witness  borne,  until  this  hour  ? 

Have  you  of  God,  the  world,  and  all  it  doth  con- 
tain, 

Of  man,  and  that  which  worketh  in  his  heart  and 
brain, 

Not  definitions  given,  in  words  of  weight  and 
power, 

With  front  unblushing,  and  a  dauntless  breast  ? 

Yet,  if  into  the  depth  of  things  you  go, 


138  GOETHE'S 

Touching  these  matters,  it  must  be  confess'd, 
As  much  as  of  Heir  Schwerdtlein's  death  you 
know  ! 

Faust. 
Thou  art  and  dost  remain  liar  and  sophist  too. 

Mephistopheles. 
Ay,  if  one  did  not  take  a  somewhat  deepcu  v^«w  ! 
To-morrow,  in  all  honor,  thou 
Poor  Gretchen  wilt  befool,  and  vow 
Thy  soul's  deep  love,  in  lover's  fashion. 

Faust. 
And  from  my  heart. 

Mephistopheles. 

All  good  and  fair  ! 
Then  deathless  constancy  thou'lt  swear  ; 
Speak  of  one  all  o'ermastering  passion, — 
Will  that  too  issue  from  the  heart  ? 

Faust. 

Forbear ! 
When  passion  sways  me,  and  I  seek  to  frame 
Fit  utterance  for  feeling,  deep,  intense, 
And  for  my  frenzy  finding  no  fit  name, 
Sweep  round  the  ample  world  with  every  sense 
Grasp  at  the  loftiest  words  to  speak  my  flame, 
And  call  the  glow,  wherewith  I  burn, 
Quenchless,  eternal,  yea,  eterne — 
Is  that  of  sophistry  a  devilish  play  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Yet  am  I  right ! 

Faust. 
Mark  this,  my  friend, 
And  spare  my  lungs  :  whoe'er  to  have  the  right, 
is  fain, 


FAUST.  139 

If  he  have  but  a  tongue,  wherewith  his  point  to 

gain, 
Will  gain  it  in  the  end. 
But  come,  of  gossip  I  am  weary  quite  ; 
Because  I've  no  resource,  thou'rt  in  the  right. 


Garden.  Margaret  on  Faust's  arm.  Martha 
with  Mephistopheles  walking  up  and 
down. 

Margaret. 
I  feel  it,  you  but  spare  my  ignorance, 
To  shame  me,  sir,  you  stoop  thus  low. 
A  traveller  from  complaisance, 
Still  makes  the  best  of  things  ;  I  know 
Too  well,  my  humble  prattle  never  can 
Have  power  to  entertain  so  wise  a  man. 

Faust. 
One  glance,  one  word  of  thine  doth  charm  me 

more 
Than  the  world's  wisdom  or  the  sage's  lore. 

(He  kisses  her  hand.) 
Margaret. 
Nay  !  trouble  not  yourself  !     A  hand  so  coarse, 
So  rude  as  mine,  now  can  you  kiss  ! 
What  constant  work  at  home  must  I  not  do  per- 
force ! 
My  mother  too  exacting  is.  (  They  pass  on.) 

Martha. 
Thus,  sir,  unceasing  travel  is  your  lot  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Traffic  and  duty  urge  us  !    With  what  pain 
Are  wc  compelled  to  leave  full  many  a  spot, 
Where  yet  we  dare  not  once  remain  I 


14°  GOETHE'S 

Martha. 
In  youth's  wild  years,  with  vigor  crown'd, 
'Tis  not  amiss  thus  through  the  world  to  sweep  ; 
But  ah,  the  evil  days  come  round  ! 
And  to  a  lonely  grave  as  bachelor  to  creep, 
A  pleasant  thing  has  no  one  found. 

Mephistopheles. 
The  prospect  fills  me  with  dismay. 

Martha. 
Therefore  in  time,  dear  sir,  reflect,  I  pray. 

{They pass  on.) 
Margaret. 
Ay,  out  of  sight  is  out  of  mind  ! 
Politeness  easy  is  to  you  ; 
Friends  everywhere,  and  not  a  few, 
Wiser  than  I  am,  you  will  find. 

Faust. 
Trust  me,  my  angel,  what  doth  pass  for  sense 
Full  oft  is  self-conceit  and  blindness  ! 

Margaret. 

How? 
Faust. 
Simplicity  and  holy  innocence, — 
When  will  ye  learn  your  hallow' d  worth  to  know  J 
Ah,  when  will  meekness  and  humility, 
Kind  and  all-bounteous  nature's  loftiest  dower — 

Margaret. 
Only  one  little  moment  think  of  me  ! 
To  think  of  you  I  shall  have  many  an  hour. 

Faust. 
You  are  perhaps  much  alone  ? 


FAUST.  I41 

Margaret. 
Yes,  small  our  household  is,  I  own, 
Yet  must  I  see  to  it.     No  maid  we  keep, 
And  I  must  cook,  sew,  knit,  and  sweep, 
Still  early  on  my  feet  and  late  ; 
My  mother  is  in  all  things,  great  and  small, 
So  accurate ! 

Not  that  for  thrift  there  is  such  pressing  need  ; 
Than  others  we  might  make  more  show  indeed  ; 
My  father  left  behind  a  small  estate, 
A  house  and  garden  near  the  city-wall. 
Quiet  enough  my  life  has  been  of  late  ; 
My  brother  for  a  soldier's  gone  ; 
My  little  sister's  dead  ;  the  babe  to  rear 
Occasion'd  me  some  care  and  fond  annoy  ; 
But  I  would  go  through  all  again  with  joy, 
The  darling  was  to  me  so  dear. 

Faust. 
An  angel,  sweet,  if  it  resembled  thee  ! 

Margaret. 
I  reared  it  up,  and  it  grew  fond  of  me. 
After  my  father's  death  it  saw  the  day  ; 
We  gave  my  mother  up  for  lost,  she  lay 
In  such  a  wretched  plight,  and  then  at  length 
So  very  slowly  she  regain'd  her  strength. 
Weak  as  she  was,  'twas  vain  for  her  to  try 
Herself  to  suckle  the  poor  babe,  so  I 
Reared  it  on  milk  and  water  all  alone  ; 
And  thus  the  child  became  as  'twere  my  own  ; 
Within  my  arms  it  stretched  itself  and  grew, 
And  smiling,  nestled  in  my  bosom  too. 

Faust. 
Doubtless  the  purest  happiness  was  thine. 


I42  GOETHE'S 

Margaret. 
But  many  weary  hours,  in  sooth,  were  also  mine. 
At  night  its  little  cradle  stood 
Close  to  my  bed  ;  so  was  I  wide  awake 
If  it  but  stirred  ; 

One  while  I  was  obliged  to  give  it  food, 
Or  to  my  arms  the  darling  take  ; 
From  bed  full  oft  must  rise,  whene'er  its  cry  I 

heard, 
And,  dancing  it,  must  pace  the  chamber  to  and 

fro; 
Stand  at  the  wash-tub  early  ;  forthwith  go 
To  market,  and  then  mind  the  cooking  too — 
To-morrow  like  to-day,  the  whole  year  through. 
Ah,  sir,  thus  living,  it  must  be  confess'd 
One's  spirits  are  not  always  of  the  best  ; 
Yet  it  a  relish  gives  to  food  and  rest. 

{They pass  on.) 
Martha. 
Poor  women  !   we  are  badly  off,  I  own  ; 
A  bachelor's  conversion's  hard,  indeed  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Madam,  with  one  like  you  it  rests  alone, 
To  tutor  me  a  better  course  to  lead. 

Martha. 
Speak  frankly,  sir,  none  is  there  you  have  met  ? 
Has  your  heart  ne'er,  attach'd  itself  as  yet  ? 

MEPHI STOPHELES. 

One's  own  fireside  and  a  good  wife  are  gold 
And  pearls  of  price,  so  says  the  proverb  old. 

Martha. 
I  mean,  has  passion  never  stirred  your  breast  ? 


FAUST.  1 43 

Mephistopheles. 
I've  everywhere  been  well  received,  I  own. 

Martha. 
Yet  hath  your  heart  no  earnest  preference  known  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
With  ladies  one  should  ne'er  presume  to  jest. 

Martha. 
Ah  !  you  mistake  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

I'm  sorry  I'm  so  blind  ! 
But  this  I  know — that  you  are  very  kind. 

{They pass  on.) 
Faust. 
Me,  little  angel,  didst  thou  recognize, 
When  in  the  garden  first  I  came  ? 

Margaret. 
Did  you  not  see  it  ?     I  cast  down  my  eyes. 

Faust. 
Thou  dost  forgive  my  boldness,  dost  not  blame 
The  liberty  I  took  that  day, 
When  thou  from  church  didst   lately  wend  thy 
way? 

Margaret. 
I  was  confused.     So  had  it  never  been  ; 
No  one  of  me  could  any  evil  say. 
Alas,  thought  I,  he  doubtless  in  thy  mien 
Something  unmaidenly  or  bold  hath  seen  ! 
It  seemed  as  if  it  struck  him  suddenly, 
Here's  just  a  girl  with  whom  one  may  make  free  ! 


144  GOETHE'S 

Yet  I  must  own  that  then  I  scarcely  knew 
What  in  your  favor  here  began  at  once  to  plead  ; 
Yet  I  was  angry  with  myself  indeed, 
That  I  more  angry  could  not  feel  with  you. 

Faust. 
Sweet  love  ! 

Margaret. 

Just  wait  a  while  ! 
{She  gathers  a  star-flower  and  plucks  off  the 
leaves  one  after  another. ) 

Faust. 

A  nosegay  may  that  be  ? 
Margaret. 
No  !     It  is  but  a  game. 

Faust. 
How? 

Margaret. 

Go,  you'll  laugh  at  me  ! 
(She  plucks  off  .the  leaves  and  murmurs  to 
herself.) 

Faust. 

What  murmurest  thou  ? 

Margaret  (half  aloud). 

He  loves  me, — loves  me  not. 

Faust. 
Sweet  angel,  with  thy  face  of  heavenly  bliss  ! 

Margaret  (continues). 
He  loves  me — not — he  loves  me — not — 

(Plucking  off  the  last  leaf  with  fond  joy.) 
He  loves  me  ! 


FAUST.  145 

Faust. 

Yes! 
And  this  flower-language,  darling,  let  it  be 
A  heavenly  oracle  !     He  loveth  thee  ! 
Know'st  thou  the  meaning  of,  He  loveth  thee  ! 
{He  seizes  both  her  hands.) 

Margaret. 
I  tremble  so  ! 

Faust. 
Nay  !  do  not  tremble,  love  ! 
Let  this  hand-pressure,  let  this  glance  reveal 
Feelings,  all  power  of  speech  above  ; 
To  give  one's  self  up  wholly  and  to  feel 
A  joy  that  must  eternal  prove  ! 
Eternal ! — Yes,  its  end  would  be  despair. 
No  end  ! — It  cannot  end  ! 

(Margaret  presses  his  hand,  extricates  her- 
self, and  runs  away.  He  stands  a  moment 
in  thought,  and  then  follows  her.) 

Martha  {approaching). 
Night's  closing. 

Mephistopheles. 
Yes,  we'll  presently  away. 

Martha. 
I  would  entreat  you  longer  yet  to  stay  ; 
But  'tis  a  wicked  place,  just  here  about ; 
It  is  as  if  the  folk  had  nothing  else  to  do, 
Nothing  to  think  of  too, 
But  gaping  watch  their  neighbors,  who  goes  in 

and  out  ; 
And  scandal's  busy  still,  do  whatsoe'er  one  may. 
And  our  young  couple  ? 


14-6  GOETHE'S 

Mephistopheles. 

They  have  flown  up  there. 
The  wanton  butterflies  ! 

Martha. 
He  seems  to  take  to  her. 
Mephistopheles. 
And  she  to  him.     'Tis  of  the  world  the  way  ! 


A  Su??imer-House.  Margaret  runs  in,  hides 
behi?id  the  door,  holds  the  tip  of  her  finger  to  her 
lip,  and  peeps  through  the  crevice. 

Margaret. 
lie  comes  ! 

Faust. 
Ah,  little  rogue,  so  thou 
Think' st  to   provoke  me  !     I    have   caught  thee 
now  !  {He  kisses  her. ) 

Margaret  {embracing  hi?n,  and  returning 
the  kiss.) 
Dearest  of  men  !     I  love  thee  from  my  heart  ! 

(Mephistopheles  knocks.) 

Faust  {stamping). 
Who's  there  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
A  friend  ! 

Faust. 

A  brute  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

'Tis  time  to  part. 


FAUST.  1  17 

(Martha  comes.) 
Ay,  it  is  late,  good  sir. 

Faust. 
Mayn't  I  attend  you,  then  ? 
Margaret. 
Oh  no — my  mother  would — adieu,  adieu  ! 

Faust. 
And  must  I  really  then  take  leave  of  you  ? 
Farewell ! 

Martha. 

Good-by ! 

Margaret. 
Erelong  to  meet  again  ! 
(Exeunt  Faust  and  Mephistophele>  \ 

Margaret. 
Good  heavens  !  how  all  things  far  and  near 
Must  fill  his  mind, — a  man  like  this  ! 
Abash'd  before  him  I  appear, 
And  say  to  all  things  only,  yes. 
Poor  simple  child,  I  cannot  see 
What  'tis  that  he  can  find  in  me. 


Forest  and  Cavern, 
Faust  {alone). 
Spirit  sublime  !     Thou  gav'st  me  all 
For  which  I  prayed  !     Not  vainly  hast  thou  turn> 
To  me  thy  countenance  in  flaming  fire  : 
Gavest  me  glorious  nature  for  my  realm, 
And  also  power  to  feel  her  and  enjoy  ; 
Not  merely  with  a  cold  and  wondering  glance, 


I4&  GOETHE'S 

Thou  dost  permit  me  in  her  depths  profound, 
As  in  the  bosom  of  a  friend,  to  gaze. 
Before  me  thou  dost  lead  her  living  tribes, 
And  dost,  in  silent  grove,  in  air  and  stream 
Teach  me  to  know  my  kindred.     And  when  roars 
The  howling  storm-blast  through  the  groaning 

wood. 
Wrenching  the  giant  pine,  which  in  its  fall 
Crashing  sweeps  down  its  neighbor  trunks  and 

boughs, 
While  with  the  hollow  noise  the  hill  resounds  : 
Then  thou  dost  lead  me  to  some  shelter'd  cave, 
Dost  there  reveal  me  to  myself,  and  show 
Of  my  own  bosom  the  mysterious  depths. 
And  when  with  soothing  beam  the  moon's  pale 

orb 
Full  in  my  view  climbs  up  the  pathless  sky, 
From  crag  and  dewy  grove,  the  silvery  forms 
Of  by-gone  ages  hover,  and  assuage 
The  joy  austere  of  contemplative  thought. 

Oh,  that  naught  perfect  is  assign'd  to  man, 
I  feel,  alas  !     With  this  exalted  joy, 
Which  lifts  me  near  and  nearer  to  the  gods, 
Thou  gav'st  me  this  companion,  unto  whom 
I  needs  must  cling,  though  cold  and  insolent, 
He  still  degrades  me  to  myself,  and  turns 
Thy  glorious  gifts  to  nothing,  with  a  breath. 
He  in  my  bosom  with  malicious  zeal 
For  that  fair  image  fans  a  raging  fire  ; 
From  craving  to  enjoyment  thus  I  reel, 
And  in  enjoyment  languish  for  desire. 

(Mephistopheles  enters.) 

Mephistopheles. 
Of  this  lone  life  have  you  not  had  your  fill  ? 
How  for  so  long  can  it  have  charms  for  you  ? 


FAUST.  149 

'Tis  well  enough  to  try  it  if  you  will  ; 
But  then  away  again  to  sometheng  new  ! 

Faust. 

Would  you  could  better  occupy  your  leisure, 
Than  in  disturbing  thus  my  hours  of  joy. 

MEPH ISTOPHELES. 

Well  !  well !  I'll  leave  you  to  yourself  with  pleas- 
ure, 
A  serious  tone  you  hardly  dare  employ. 
To  part  from  one  so  crazy,  harsh,  and  cross, 
I  should  not  find  a  grievous  loss. 
The  live-long  day,  for  you  I  toil  and  fret  ; 
Ne'er  from  his  worship's  face  a  hint  I  get, 
What  pleases  him,  or  what  to  let  alone. 

Faust. 

Ay  truly  !  that  is  just  the  proper  tone  ! 

He  wearies  me,  and  would  with  thanks  be  paid  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Poor  Son  of  Earth,  without  my  aid, 

How  would  thy  weary  days  have  flown  ? 

Thee  of  thy  foolish  whims  I've  cured, 

Thy  vain  imaginations  banished, 

And  but  for  me,  be  well  assured, 

Thou  from  this  sphere  must  soon  have  vanished. 

In  rocky  hollows  and  in  caverns  drear, 

Why  like  an  owl  sit  moping  here  ? 

Wherefore  from  dripping  stones  and  moss  with 

ooze  imbued, 
Dost  suck,  like  any  toad,  thy  food  ! 
A  rare,  sweet  pastime.     Verily  ! 
The  doctor  cleaveth  still  to  thee. 


15°  GOETHE'S 

Faust. 
Dost  comprehend  what  bliss  without  alloy 
From  this  wild  wand'ring  in  the  desert  springs  ? — 
Couldst    thou  but  guess  the    new  life-power  it 

brings, 
Thou  wouldst  be  fiend  enough  to  envy  me  my 

joy. 

MEPH I STO  PHELES. 

What  super-earthly  ecstasy  !  at  night, 

To  lie  in  darkness  on  the  dewy  height, 

Embracing  heaven  and  earth  in  rapture  high, 

The  soul  dilating  to  a  deity  ; 

With  prescient  yearnings  pierce  the  core  of  earth, 

Feel  in  your  laboring  breast  the  six-days'  birth, 

Enjoy,  in  proud  delight  what  no  one  knows, 

While  your  love-rapture  o'er  creation  flows, — 

The  earthly  lost  in  beatific  vision, 

And  then  the  lofty  intuition —    ( With  a  gesture.} 

I  need  not  tell  you  how — to  close  ! 

Faust. 
Fie  on  you  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
This  displeases  you  ?     "  For  shame  !" 
You  are  forsooth  entitled  to  exclaim  ; 
We  to  chaste  ears  it  seems  must  not  pronounce 
What,  nathless,  the  chaste  heart  cannot  renounce. 
Well,  to  be  brief,  the  joy  as  fit  occasions  rise, 
I  grudge  you  not,  of  specious  lies. 
But  soon  the  self-deluding  vein 
Is  past,  once  more  thou'rt  whirled  away, 
And  should  it  last,  thou'lt  be  the  prey 
Of  frenzy  or  remorse  and  pain. 
Enough  of  this  !     Thy  true  love  dwells  apart, 
And  all  to  her  seems  flat  and  tame  ; 


FAUST.  151 

Alone  thine  image  fills  her  heart, 
She  loves  thee  with  an  all-devouring  flame. 
First  came  thy  passion  with  o'erpowering  rush, 
Like   mountain  torrent,   swollen  by  the  melted 

snow  ; 
Full  in  her  heart  didst  pour  the  sudden  gush, 
Now  has  thy  brooklet  ceased  to  flow. 
Instead  of  sitting  throned  midst  forests  wild, 
It  would  become  so  great  a  lord 
To  comfort  the  enamour' d  child, 
And  the  young  monkey  for  her  love  reward. 
To  her  the  hours  seem  miserably  long  ; 
She  from  the  window  sees  the  clouds  float  by, 
As  o'er  the  lofty  city- walls  they  fly. 
"  If  I  a  birdie  were  !"  so  runs  her  song, 
Half  through  the  night  and  all  day  long. 
Cheerful  sometimes,  more  oft  at  heart  full  sore  ; 
Fairly  outwept  seem  now  her  tears, 
Anon  she  tranquil  is,  or  so  appears, 
And  love-sick  evermore. 

Faust. 
Snake  !  serpent  vile  ! 

Mephistopheles  {aside). 
Good !     If  I  catch  thee  with  my  guile  ! 

Faust. 
Vile  reprobate  !  go  get  thee  hence  ; 
Forbear  the  lovely  girl  to  name  ! 
Nor  in  my  half-distracted  sense, 
Kindle  anew  the  smouldering  flame  ! 

MEPH ISTOPHELES. 

What  wouldest  thou  ?    She  thinks  you're  taken 

flight ; 
It  seems,  she's  partly  in  the  right. 


*52  GOETHE'S 

Faust. 
I'm  near  her  still — and  should  I  distant  rove, 
Her  I  can  ne'er  forget,  ne'er  lose  her  love  ; 
And  all  things  touch' d  by  those  sweet  lips  of  hers, 
Even  the  very  Host,  my  envy  stirs. 

Mephistopheles. 
'Tis  well !     I  oft  have  envied  you  indeed, 
The  twin-pair  that  among  the  roses  feed. 

Faust. 
Pander,  avaunt ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Go  to  !     I  laugh,  the  while  you  rail. 
The  power  which  fashion'd  youth  and  maid, 
Well  understood  the  noble  trade  ; 
So  neither  shall  occasion  fail. 
But  hence  ! — In  truth  a  case  for  gloom  ! 
Bethink  thee,  to  thy  mistress'  room 
And  not  to  death  shouldst  go  ! 

Faust. 
What  is  to  me  heaven's  joy  within  her  arms  ? 
What  though  my  life  her  bosom  warms  ! — 
Do  I  not  ever  feel  her  woe  ? 
The  outcast  am  I  not,  who  knows  no  rest, 
Inhuman  monster,  aimless  and  unblest, 
Who,  like  the  greedy  surge,  from  rock  to  rock, 
Sweeps   down    the   dread   abyss  with   desperate 

shock  ? 
While  she,  within  her  lowly  cot,  which  graced 
The  Alpine  slope,  beside  the  waters  wild, 
Her  homely  cares  in  that  small  world  embraced, 
Secluded  lived,  a  simple  artless  child. 
Was't  not  enough,  in  thy  delirious  whirl 
To  blast  the  steadfast  rocks  ; 


FAUST.  153 

Her,  and  her  peace  as  well, 

Must  I,  God-hated  one,  to  ruin  hurl  ? 

Dost  claim  this  holocaust,  remorseless  Hell  ? 

Fiend,  help  me  to  cut  short  the  hours  of  dread  ! 

Let  what  must  happen,  happen  speedily  ! 

Her  direful  doom  fall  crushing  on  my  head, 

And  into  ruin  let  her  plunge  with  me  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Why,  how  again  it  seethes  and  glows  ! 
Away,  thou  fool !     Her  torment  ease  ! 
When  such  a  head  no  issue  sees, 
It  pictures  straight  the  final  close. 
Long  life  to  him  who  boldly  dares  ! 
A  devil's  pluck  thou'rt  wont  to  show  ; 
As  for  a  devil  who  despairs, 
There's  naught  so  mawkish  here  below. 


Margaret's  Room. 
Margaret  {alone  at  her  spinning-wheet). 

My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sore, 
I  find  it  never, 

And  nevermore ! 

Where  him  I  have  not, 
Is  the  grave  to  me  ; 

And  bitter  as  gall 

The  whole  world  to  me. 

My  wilder'd  brain 

Is  overwrought ; 
My  feeble  senses 

Are  distraught. 


154  GOETHE'S 

My  peace  is  gone, 
My  heart  is  sore, 

I  find  it  never, 
And  nevermore  ! 

For  him  from  the  window 
I  gaze,  at  home  ; 

For  him  and  him  only 
Abroad  I  roam. 

His  lofty  step, 
His  bearing  high, 

The  smile  of  his  lip, 
The  power  of  his  eye, 

His  witching  words, 
Their  tones  of  bliss, 

His  hand's  fond  pressure, 
And  ah — his  kiss  ! 

My  peace  is  gone, 
My  heart  is  sore, 

I  find  it  never, 
And  nevermore. 

My  bosom  aches 
To  feel  him  near  ; 

Ah,  could  I  clasp 
And  fold  him  here  ! 

Kiss  him  and  kiss  him 
Again  would  I, 

And  on  his  kisses 
I  fain  would  die  ! 


Martha's  Garden.    Margaret  and  Faust. 
Margaret. 
Promise,  me,  Henry — 


FAUST.  155 

Faust. 

What  I  can  ! 
Margaret. 
How  is  it  with  religion  in  thy  mind  ? 
Thou  art  a  dear  kind-hearted  man, 
But  I'm  afraid  not  piously  inclined. 

Faust. 
Forbear  !     Thou  feelest  I  love  thee  alone  ; 
For  those  I  love,  my  life  I  would  lay  down, 
And  none  would  of  their  faith  or  church  bereave. 

Margaret. 
That's  not  enough,  we  must  ourselves  believe  ! 

Faust. 
Must  we  ? 

Margaret. 
Ah,  could  I  but  thy  soul  inspire  ! 
Thou  honorest  not  the  sacraments,  alas  ! 

Faust. 
I  honor  them. 

Margaret. 

But  yet  without  desire ; 

'Tis  long  since  thou  hast  been  either  to  shrift  or 

mass. 
Dost  thou  believe  in  God  ? 

Faust. 
My  darling,  who  dares  say, 
Yes,  I  in  God  believe  ? 
Question  or  priest  or  sage,  and  they 
Seem,  in  the  answer  you  receive, 
To  mock  the  questioner. 


156  GOETHE'S 

Margaret. 
Then  thou  dost  not  believe  ! 
Faust. 
Sweet  one  !  my  meaning  do  not  misconceire ! 
Him  who  dare  name 
And  who  proclaim, 
Him  I  believe  ? 
Who  that  can  feel, 
His  heart  can  steel, 
To  say  :  I  believe  him  not  ? 
The  All-embracer, 
All-sustainer, 
Holds  and  sustains  he  not 
Thee,  me,  himself  ? 
Lifts  not  the  heaven  its  dome  above  ? 
Doth  not  the  firm-set  earth  beneath  us  lie? 
And  beaming  tenderly  with  looks  of  love, 
Climb  not  the  everlasting  stars  on  high  ? 
Do  I  not  gaze  into  thine  eyes  ? 
Nature's  impenetrable  agencies, 
Are  they  not  thronging  on  thy  heart  and  brain, 
Viewless,  or  visible  to  mortal  ken, 
Around  thee  weaving  their  mysterious  chain  ? 
Fill  thence  thy  heart,  how  large  soe'er  it  be  ; 
And  in  the  feeling  when  thou  utterly  art  blest, 
Then  call  it,  what  thou  wilt, — 
Call  it  Bliss  !  Heart !    Love  !  God  ! 
I  have  no  name  for  it  ! 
'Tis  feeling  all ; 
Name  is  but  sound  and  smoke 
Shrouding  the  glow  of  heaven. 

Margaret. 
All  this  is  doubtless  good  and  fair  ; 
Almost  the  same  the  parson  says, 
Only  in  slightly  different  phrase. 


FAUST.  157 

Faust. 
Beneath  Heaven's  sunshine,  everywhere, 
This  is  the  utterance  of  the  human  heart ; 
Each  in  his  language  doth  the  like  impart  ; 
Then  why  not  I  in  mine  ? 

Margaret. 

What  thus  I  hear 
Sounds  plausible,  yet  I'm  not  reconciled  ; 
There's  something  wrong  about  it  ;  much  I  fear 
That  thou  art  not  a  Christian. 

Faust. 

My  sweet  child  ! 
Margaret. 
Alas  !  it  long  hath  sorely  troubled  me, 
To  see  thee  in  such  odious  company. 

Faust. 
How  so  ? 

Margaret. 
The  man  who  comes  with  thee,  I  hate. 
Yea,  in  my  spirit's  inmost  depths  abhor  ; 
As  his  loath'd  visage,  in  my  life  before, 
Naught  to  my  heart  e'er  gave  a  pang  so  great. 

Faust. 
Fear  not,  sweet  love  ! 

Margaret. 

His  presence  chills  my  blood. 
Toward  all  beside  I  have  a  kindly  mood  ; 
Yet,  though  I  yearn  to  gaze  on  thee,  I  feel 
At  sight  of  him  strange  horror  o'er  me  steal  ; 
That  he's  a  villain  my  conviction's  strong. 
May  Heaven  forgive  me,  if  I  do  him  wrong ! 


IS**  GOETHE'S 

Faust. 
Yet  such  strange  fellows  in  the  world  must  be ! 

Margaret. 
I  would  not  live  with  such  an  one  as  he. 
If  for  a  moment  he  but  enter  here, 
He  looks  around  him  with  a  mocking  sneer, 
And  malice  ill-conceal'd  ; 
That  he,  with  naught  on  earth  can  sympathize  is 

clear  ; 
Upon  his  brow  'tis  legibly  revealed, 
That  to  his  heart  no  living  soul  is  dear. 
So  blest  I  feel,  within  thine  arms, 
So  warm  and  happy, — free  from  all  alarms  ; 
And  still  my  heart  doth  close  when  he  comes 

near. 

Faust. 
Foreboding  angel !  check  thy  fear  ! 

Margaret. 
It  so  o'ermasters  me,  that  when, 
Or  wheresoe'er,  his  step  I  hear, 
I  almost  think,  no  more  I  love  thee  then. 
Besides,  when  he  is  near,  I  ne'er  could  pray, 
This  eats  into  my  heart ;  with  thee 
The  same,  my  Henry,  it  must  be. 

Faust. 
This  is  antipathy  ! 

Margaret. 

I  must  away. 

Faust. 
For  one  brief  hour  then  may  I  never  rest, 
And  heart  to  heart,  and  soul  to  soul  be  pressed  ? 


FAUST.  159 

Margaret. 
Ah,  if  I  slept  alone,  to-night 
The  bolt  I  fain  would  leave  undrawn  for  thee ; 
But  then  my  mother's  sleep  is  light, 
Were  we  surprised  by  her,  ah  me  ! 
Upon  the  spot  I  should  be  dead. 

Faust. 
Dear  angel !  there's  no  cause  for  dread. 
Here  is  a  little  phial, — if  she  take 
Mixed  in  her  drink  three  drops,  'twill  steep 
Her  nature  in  a  deep  and  soothing  sleep. 

Margaret. 
What  do  I  not  for  thy  dear  sake  ! 
To  her  it  will  not  harmful  prove  ? 

Faust. 
Should  I  advise  else,  sweet  love  ? 

Margaret. 
I  know  not,  dearest,  when  thy  face  I  see, 
What  doth  my  spirit  to  thy  will  constrain  ; 
Already  I  have  done  so  much  for  thee, 
That  scarcely  more  to  do  doth  now  remain. 

{Exit.     Mephistopheles  enters.) 

Mephistopheles. 
The  monkey  !     Is  she  gone  ? 

Faust. 

Again  hast  played  the  spy  ? 
Mephistopheles. 
Of  all  that  pass'd  I'm  well  appriz'd, 
I  heard  the  doctor  catechised, 
And  trust  he'll  profit  much  thereby  ! 


l6o  GOETHE'S 

Fain  would  the  girls  inquire  indeed 
Touching  their  lover's  faith,  if  he 
Believe  according  to  the  ancient  creed  ; 
They  think  :  if  pliant  there,  to  us  he'll  yielding  be. 

Faust. 
Thou  monster,  dost  not  see  that  this 
Pure  soul,  possessed  by  ardent  love, 
Full  of  the  living  faith, 
To  her  of  bliss 

The  only  pledge,  must  holy  anguish  prove, 
Holding  the  man  she  loves,  fore-doomed  to  end- 
less death  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Most  sensual,  supersensualist  ?     The  while 
A  damsel  leads  thee  by  the  nose  ! 

Faust. 
Of  filth  and  fire  abortion  vile  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
In  physiognomy  strange  skill  she  shows  ; 
She  in  my  presence  feels  she  knows  not  how  ; 
My  mask  it  seems  a  hidden  sense  reveals  ; 
That  I'm  a  genius  she  must  needs  allow, 
That  I'm  the  very  devil  perhaps  she  feels. 
So  then  to-night — 

Faust. 

What's  that  to  you  ? 
Mephistopheles. 
I've  my  amusement  in  it  too ! 


FA  UST. 


161 


At   the    Well.     Margaret    and  Bessy,    with 
pitchers. 

Bessy. 
Of  Barbara  hast  nothing  heard  ? 

Margaret. 
I  rarely  go  from  home, — no,  not  a  word. 

Bessy. 
'Tis  true  :  Sybilla  told  me  so  to-day  ! 
That  comes  of  being  proud,  methinks  ; 
She  played  the  fool  at  last. 

Margaret. 

How  so  ? 

Bessy. 

They  say 
That  two  she  feedeth  when  she  eats  and  drinks. 

Margaret. 
Alas! 

Bessy. 

She's  rightly  served,  in  sooth. 
How  long  she  hung  upon  the  youth  ! 
What  promenades,  what  jaunts  there  were, 
To  dancing  booth  and  village  fair  ! 
The  first  she  everywhere  must  shine, 
He  always  treating  her  to  pastry  and  to  wine. 
Of  her  good  looks  she  was  so  vain, 
So  shameless  too,  that  she  did  not  disdain 
Even  his  presents  to  retain  ; 
Sweet  words  and  kisses  came  anon — 
And  then  the  virgin  flower  was  gone  ! 

Margaret. 
Poor  thing ! 


l62  GOETHE'S 

Bessy. 
Forsooth  dost  pity  her  ? 
At  night,  when  at  our  wheels  we  sat, 
Abroad  our  mothers  ne'er  would  let  us  stir. 
Then  with  her  lover  she  must  chat, 
Or  on  the  bench,  or  in  the  dusky  walk, 
Thinking  of  the  hours  too  brief  for  their  sweet 

talk; 
Her  proud  head  she  will  have  to  bow, 
And  in  white  sheet  do  penance  now  ! 

Margaret. 
But  he  will  surely  marry  her  ? 

Bessy. 

Not  he ! 
He  won't  be  such  a  fool !  a  gallant  lad 
Like  him  can  roam  o'er  land  and  sea, 
Besides,  he's  off. 

Margaret. 

That  is  not  fair  ! 

Bessy. 
If  she  should  get  him,  'twere  almost  as  bad  ! 
Her  myrtle  wreath  the  boys  would  tear  ; 
And  then  we  girls  would  plague  her  too. 
For  we   chopp'd  straw  before  her   door  would 
strew  !  {Exit.) 

Margaret  {walking  toward  home). 
How  stoutly  once  I  could  inveigh, 
If  a  poor  maiden  went  astray  ! 
Not  words  enough  my  tongue  could  find, 
'Gainst  others'  sin  to  speak  my  mind  ; 
Black  as  it  seemed,  I  blacken'd  it  still  more, 
And  strove  to  make  it  blacker  than  before. 


FAUST.  163 

And  did  myself  securely  bless — 
Now  my  own  trespass  doth  appear  ! 
Yet  ah  ! — what  urg'd  me  to  transgress, 
Sweet  Heaven,  it  was  so  good  !  so  dear  ! 


Zwinger.  Enclosure  between  the  City-wall  and 
the  Gate.  In  the  niche  of  the  wall  a  devotional 
image  of  the  Mater  Dolorosa,  with  flozver-pois 
before  it. 

Margaret  {putting  fresh  flowers  in  the  pots). 

Ah,  rich  in  sorrow,  thou, 
Stoop  thy  maternal  brow, 
And  mark  with  pitying  eye  my  misery  ! 

The  sword  in  thy  pierced  heart, 

Thou  dost  with  bitter  smart, 

Gaze  upward  on  thy  Son's  death  agony. 

To  the  dear  God  on  high, 
Ascends  thy  piteous  sigh, 
Pleading  for  his  and  thy  sore  misery. 

Ah,  who  can  know 

The  torturing  woe, 

The  pangs  that  rack  me  to  the  bone  ? 

How  my  poor  heart,  without  relief, 

Trembles  and  throbs,  its  yearning  grief 

Thou  knowest,  thou  alone  ! 

Ah,  wheresoe'er  I  go, 

With  woe,  with  woe,  with  woe, 

My  anguish'd  breast  is  aching  ! 

When  all  alone  I  creep, 

I  weep,  I  weep,  I  weep, 

Alas  !  my  heart  is  breaking  ! 


164  GOETHE'S 

The  flower-pots  at  my  window 
Were  wet  with  tears  of  mine, 
The  while  I  pluck'd  these  blossoms, 
At  dawn  to  deck  thy  shrine  ! 

When  early  in  my  chamber 
Shone  bright  the  rising  morn, 
I  sat  there  on  my  pallet, 
My  heart  with  anguish  torn. 

Help  !  from  disgrace  and  death  deliver  me 

Ah  f  rich  in  sorrow,  thou, 

Stoop  thy  maternal  brow, 

And  mark  with  pitying  eye  my  misery  ! 


Night.     Street  before  Margaret's  door. 
Valentine  {a  soldier,  Margaret's  brother). 
When  seated  'mong  the  jovial  crowd 
Where  merry  comrades,  boasting  loud, 
Each  named  with  pride  his  favorite  lass, 
And  in  her  honor  drain'd  his  glass  ; 
Upon  my  elbows  I  would  lean, 
With  easy  quiet  view  the  scene, 
Nor  give  my  tongue  the  rein,  until 
Each  swaggering  blade  had  talked  his  fill. 
Then  smiling  I  my  beard  would  stroke, 
The  while,  with  brimming  glass,  I  spoke  ; 
"  Each  to  his  taste  ! — but  to  my  mind, 
Where  in  the  country  will  you  find 
A  maid  as  my  dear  Gretchen  fair, 
Who  with  my  sister  can  compare  ?" 
Cling  !  clang  !  so  rang  the  jovial  sound  ! 
Shout  of  assent  went  circling  round  ; 
Pride  of  her  sex  is  she  ! — cried  some  ; 
Then  were  the  noisy  boasters  dumb. 


FAUST.  165 

And  now  ! — I  could  tear  out  my  hair, 
Or  dash  my  brains  out  in  despair  ! — 
Me  every  scurvy  knave  may  twit, 
With  stinging1  jest  and  taunting  sneer  ! 
Like  skulking  debtor  I  must  sit, 
And  sweat  each  casual  word  to  hear  ! 
And  though  I  smash'd  them  one  and  all, — 
Yet  them  I  could  not  liars  call. 

Who  comes  this  way?  who's  sneaking  here? 
If  I  mistake  not,  two  draw  near. 
If  he  be  one,  have  at  him  ; — well  I  wot 
Alive  he  shall  not  leave  this  spot ! 

Faust.     Mephistopheles. 
Faust. 
How  from  yon  sacristy,  athwart  the  night, 
Its  beams  the  ever-burning  taper  throws, 
While  ever  waning,  fades  the  glimmering  light, 
As  gathering  darkness  doth  around  it  close  ! 
So  nigat-like  gloom  doth  in  my  bosom  reign. 

Mephistopheles. 
I'm  like  a  tom-cat  in  a  thievish  vein, 
That  up  fire-ladders  tall  and  steep, 
And  round  the  walls  doth  slyly  creep  ; 
Virtuous  withal,  I  feel,  with,  I  confess, 
A  touch  of  thievish  joy  and  wantonness. 
Thus  through  my  limbs  already  there  doth  bound 
The  glorious  Walpurgis-night  ! 
After  to-morrow  it  again  comes  round, 
What  one  doth  wake  for,  then  one  knows  aright ! 

Faust. 
Meanwhile,  the   flame   which  I   see  glimmering 

there, 
Is  it  the  treasure  rising  in  the  air  ? 


*66  GOETHE'S 


Mephistopheles. 
Ere  long,  I  make  no  doubt,  but  you 
To  raise  the  chest  will  feel  inclined  ; 
Erewhile  I  peep'd  within  it  too  ; 
With  lion-dollars  'tis  well  lined. 

Faust. 
And  not  a  trinket  ?  not  a  ring? 
Wherewith  my  lovely  girl  to  deck  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I  saw  among  them  some  such  thing, 
A  string  of  pearls  to  grace  her  neck. 

Faust. 

'Tis  well !  I'm  always  loath  to  go, 
Without  some  gift  my  love  to  show. 

Mephistopheles. 

Some  pleasure  gratis  to  enjoy, 

Should  surely  cause  you  no  annoy. 

While  bright  with  stars  the  heavens  appear, 

I'll  sing  a  masterpiece  of  art : 

A  moral  song  shall  charm  her  ear, 

More  surely  to  beguile  her  heart. 

(Sings  to  the  guitar.) 

Kathrina  say, 
Why  lingering  stay 
At  dawn  of  day 
Before  your  lover's  door  ? 
Maiden,  beware, 
Nor  enter  there, 
Lest  forth  you  fare, 
A  maiden  nevermore. 


FAUST.  167 

Maiden,  take  heed  ! 

Reck  well  my  rede  ! 

Is't  done,  the  deed  ? 

Good-night,  you  poor,  poor  thing  ! 

The  spoiler's  lies, 

His  arts  despise, 

Nor  yield  your  prize, 

Without  the  marriage  ring  ! 

Valentine  {steps  forzvard). 
Whom  are  you  luring  here  ?    I'll  give  it  you  ! 
Accursed  rat-catchers,  your  strains  I'll  end  ! 
First,  to  the  devil  the  guitar  I'll  send  1 
Then  to  the  devil  with  the  singer  too  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
The  poor  guitar  !  'tis  done  for  now. 

Valentine. 
Your  skull  shall  follow  next,  I  trow  ! 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust). 
Doctor,  stand  fast  !  your  strength  collect ! 
Be  prompt,  and  do  as  I  direct. 
Out  with  your  whisk  !  keep  close,  I  pray, 
I'll  parry  !  do  you  thrust  away  ! 

Valentine. 
Then  parry  that ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Why  not  ? 
Valentine. 

That  too ! 

Mephistopheles. 
With  ease  ! 


1 68  GOETHE'S 

Valentine. 
The  devil  fights  for  you  ! 
Why  how  is  this  ?  my  hand's  already  lamed  ! 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust). 
Thrust  home  ! 

Valentine  {falls). 
Alas! 

Mephistopheles. 

There  !     Now  the  lubber's  tamed  ! 
But  quick,  away  !     We  must  at  once  take  wing  ; 
A  cry  of  murder  strikes  upon  the  ear  ; 
With  the  police  I  know  my  course  to  steer, 
But  with  the  blood-ban  'tis  another  thing. 

Martha  {at  the  window). 

Without  !  without  ! 

Margaret  {at  the  window). 

Quick,  bring  a  light ! 

Martha  {as  above). 

They  rail  and  scuffle,  scream  and  fight ! 

People. 

One  lieth  here  already  dead  ! 

Martha  {coming  out). 

Where  are  the  murderers  ?  are  they  fled  ? 

Margaret  {corning  out). 

Who  lieth  here  ? 

People. 

Thy  mother's  son. 

Margaret. 

Almighty  God  !  I  am  undone  ! 


FAUST.  169 

Valentine. 

I'm  dying — 'tis  a  soon-told  tale, 
And  sooner  done  the  deed. 
Why,  women,  do  ye  howl  and  wail  ? 
To  my  last  words  give  heed  ! 

{All gather  round  him.) 
Gretchen,  thou'rt  still  of  tender  age, 
And,  well  I  wot,  not  over  sage, 
Thou  dost  thy  matters  ill ; 
Let  this  in  confidence  be  said  : 
Since  thou  the  path  of  shame  dost  tread, 
Tread  it  with  right  good  will  ! 

Margaret. 
My  brother  !     God  !  what  can  this  mean  ? 

Valentine. 

Abstain, 
Nor  dare  God's  holy  name  profane  ! 
What's  done,  alas,  is  done  and  past ! 
Matters  will  take  their  course  at  last ; 
By  stealth  thou  dost  begin  with  one, 
Others  will  follow  him  anon  ; 
And  when  a  dozen  thee  have  known, 
Thou'lt  common  be  to  all  the  town. 
When  infamy  is  newly  born, 
In  secret  she  is  brought  to  light, 
And  the  mysterious  veil  of  night 
O'er  head  and  ears  is  drawn  ; 
The  loathsome  birth  men  fain  would  slay ; 
But  soon,  full  grown,  she  waxes  bold, 
And  though  not  fairer  to  behold, 
With  brazen  front  insults  the  day  : 
The  more  abhorrent  to  the  sight, 
The  more  she  courts  the  day's  pure  light. 


17°  GOETHE'S 

The  time  already  I  discern, 

When  thee  all  honest  folk  will  spurn, 

And  shun  thy  hated  form  to  meet, 

As  when  a  corpse  infects  the  street. 

Thy  heart  will  sink  in  blank  despair, 

When  they  shall  look  thee  in  the  face ! 

A  golden  chain  no  more  thou'lt  wear — 

Nor  near  the  altar  take  in  church  thy  place — 

In  fair  lace  collar  simply  dight 

Thou'lt  dance  no  more  with  spirits  light — 

In  darksome  corners  thou  wilt  bide, 

Where  beggars  vile  and  cripples  hide — 

And  e'en  though  God  thy  crime  forgive, 

On  earth,  a  thing  accursed,  thou'lt  live  ! 

Martha. 
Your  parting  soul  to  God  commend  ; 
Your  dying  breath  in  slander  will  you  spend  ? 

Valentine. 
Could  I  but  reach  thy  wither'd  frame, 
Thou  wretched  beldame,  void  of  shame  ! 
Full  measure  I  might  hope  to  win 
Of  pardon  then  for  every  sin. 

Margaret. 
Brother  !  what  agonizing  pain  ! 

Valentine. 
I  tell  thee  !  from  vain  tears  abstain  ! 
'Twas  thy  dishonor  pierced  my  heart  ; 
Thy  fall  the  fatal  death-stab  gave. 
Through  the  death-sleep  I  now  depart 
To  God,  a  soldier  true  and  brave.  (Dies.) 


FAUST.  17 l 

Cathedral,  Service \  Organ,  and  Anthem.  Mar- 
garet among  a  number  of  people.  Evil 
Spirit  behind  Margaret. 

Evil  Spirit. 

How  different,  Gretchen,  was  it  once  with  thee, 

When  thou,  still  full  of  innocence, 

Here  to  the  altar  earnest, 

And  from  the  small  and  well-conn'd  book 

Didst  lisp  thy  prayer, 

Half  childish  sport, 

Half  God  in  thy  young  heart  ! 

Gretchen  ! 

What  thoughts  are  thine  ? 

What  deed  of  shame 

Lurks  in  thy  sinful  heart  ? 

Is  thy  prayer  utter'd  for  thy  mother's  soul, 

Who  into  long,  long  torment  slept  through  thee  ? 

Whose  blood  is  on  thy  threshold  ? 

— And  stirs  there  not  already  'neath  thy  heart 

Another  quick'ning  pulse,  that  even  now 

Tortures  itself  and  thee 

With  its  foreboding  presence  ? 

Margaret. 
Woe  !  Woe  ! 

Oh  could  I  free  me  from  the  thoughts 
That  hither,  thither,  crowd  upon  my  brain, 
Against  my  will  ! 

Chorus. 

Dies  irae,  dies  ilia, 
Solvet  saeclum  in  favilla. 

( The  organ  sovnds.) 


*72  GOETHE'S 

Evil  Spirit. 

Grim  horror  seizes  thee  ! 
The  trumpet  sounds  ! 
The  graves  are  shaken  ! 
And  thy  heart 
From  ashy  rest 
For  torturing  flames 
Anew  created, 
Trembles  into  life  ! 

Margaret. 

Would  I  were  hence  ! 
It  is  as  if  the  organ 
Choked  my  breath, 
As  if  the  choir 
Melted  my  inmost  heart ! 


Chorus. 

Judex  ergo  cum  sedebit, 
Quidquid  latet  adparebit, 
Nil  inultum  remanebit. 

Margaret. 

I  feel  oppressed  ! 

The  pillars  of  the  wall 

Imprison  me  ! 

The  vaulted  roof 

Weighs  down  upon  me  ! — air  ! 

Evil  Spirit. 

Wouldst  hide  thee  ?  sin  and  shame 
Remain  not  hidden  ! 
Air  !  light  ! 
Woe's  thee  ! 


FAUST.  173 

Chorus. 
Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus  ? 
Quern  patronum  rogaturus  ! 
Cum  vix  Justus  sit  securus. 

Evil  Spirit. 
The  glorified  their  faces  turn 
Away  from  thee  ! 
Shudder  the  pure  to  reach 
Their  hands  to  thee  ! 
Woe  ! 

Chorus. 
Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus — 
Margaret. 
Neighbor  !  your  smelling  bottle  ! 

(She  swoons  azuay.) 


WALPURGIS-NIGHT. 

The  Hartz  Mountains.     District  of  Schierke  and 
Elena1.     Faust  and  Mephistopheles. 

Mephistopheles. 
A  broomstick  dost  thou  not  at  least  desire  ? 
The  roughest  he-goat  fain  would  I  bestride, 
By  this  road  from  our  goal  we're  still  far  wide. 

Faust. 
While  fresh  upon  my  legs,  so  long  I  naught  re- 
quire, 
Except  this  knotty  staff.     Beside, 
What  boots  it  to  abridge  a  pleasant  way  ? 
Along  the  labyrinth  of  these  vales  to  creep, 
Then  scale  these  rocks,  whence,  in  eternal  spray, 
Adown  the  cliffs  the  silvery  fountains  leap  : 
Such  is  the  joy  that  seasons  paths  like  these  ! 
Spring  weaves  already  in  the  birchen  trees  ; 
E'en   the   late  pine-grove    feels  her  quickening 

powers  ; 
Should  she  not  work  within  these  limbs  of  ours  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Naught  of  this  genial  influence  do  I  know  ! 
Within  me  all  is  wintry.     Frost  and  snow 
I  should  prefer  my  dismal  path  to  bound. 
How  sadly,  yonder,  with  belated  glow 
Rises  the  ruddy  moon's  imperfect  round, 
Shedding  so  faint  a  light  at  every  tread 
One's  sure  to  stumble  'gainst  a  rock  or  tree  \ 
An  Ignis  Fatuus  I  must  call  instead. 


FAUST.  175 

Yonder  one  burning  merrily,  I  see. 
Holla  !  my  friend,  may  I  request  your  light  ? 
Why  should  you  flare  away  so  uselessly  ? 
Be  kind  enough  to  show  us  up  the  height ! 

Ignis  Fatuus. 
Through  reverence,  I  hope  I  may  subdue 
The  lightness  of  my  nature  ;  true, 
Our  course  is  but  a  zigzag  one. 

Mephistopheles. 

Ho  !  ho  ! 
So  man,  forsooth,  he  thinks  to  imitate  ! 
Now,  in  the  devil's  name,  for  once  go  straight, 
Or  out  at  once  your  flickering  life  I'll  blow  ! 

Ignis  Fatuus. 
That  you  are  master  here  is  obvious  quite  ; 
To  do  your  will,  I'll  cordially  essay  ; 
Only  reflect  !     The  hill  is  magic-mad  to  night  ; 
And  if  to  show  the  path  you  choose  a  meteor's 

light, 
You  must  not  wonder  should  we  go  astray. 

Faust,   Mephistopheles,    Ignis  Fatuus  {in 
alternate  song). 
Through  this  dream  and  magic-sphere. 
Lead  us  on,  thou  flickering  guide. 
Pilot  well  our  bold  career  ! 
That  we  may  with  onward  stride 
Gain  yon  vast  and  desert  waste  ! 

See  how  tree  on  tree  with  haste 
Rush  amain,  the  granite  blocks 
Make  obeisance  as  they  go  ! 
Hark  !  the  grim,  long-snouted  rocks, 
How  they  snort,  and  how  they  blow  ! 


17 6  GOETHE'S 

Brook  and  brooklet  hurrying  flow 
Through  the  turf  and  stones  along ; 
Hark,  the  rustling  !     Hark,  the  song  ! 
Hearken  to  love's  plaintive  lays  ; 
Voices  of  those  heavenly  days — 
What  we  hope,  and  what  we  love  ! 
Like  the  song  of  olden  time, 
Echo's  voice  repeats  the  chime. 

To-whit  !     To-whoo  !     It  sounds  more  near  \ 

Pewit,  owl,  and  jay  appear, 

All  awake,  around,  above  ! 

Paunchy  salamanders  too 

Crawl,  long-limbed,  the  bushes  through  ! 

And.  like  snakes,  the  roots  of  trees 
Coil  themselves  from  rock  and  sand, 
Stretching  many  a  wondrous  band, 
Us  to  frighten,  us  to  seize  ; 
From  rude  knots  with  life  imbued, 
Polyp-fangs  abroad  they  spread, 
To  snare  the  wanderer  !     'Neath  our  tread. 
Mice,  in  myriads,  thousand-hued, 
Through  the  heath  and  through  the  moss  ! 
And  the  fire-flies'  glittering  throng, 
Wildering  escort,  whirls  along, 
Here  and  there,  our  path  across. 

Tell  me,  stand  we  motionless, 
Or  still  forward  do  we  press  ? 
All  things  round  us  whirl  and  fly, 
Rocks  and  trees  make  strange  grimaces, 
Dazzling  meteors  change  their  places, 
How  they  puff  and  multiply  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Now  grasp  my  doublet — we  at  last 
Have  reached  a  central  precipice, 


FA  USTf  J  7  7 

Whence  we  a  wondering  glance  may  cast, 
flow  Mammon  lights  the  dark  abyss. 

Faust. 

How  through  the  chasms  strangely  gleams 
A  lurid  light,  like  dawn's  red  glow, 
Pervading  with  its  quivering  beams, 
The  gorges  of  the  gulf  below  ! 
There  vapors  rise,  there  clouds  float  by, 
And  here  through  mist  the  splendor  shines  . 
Now,  like  a  fount,  it  bursts  on  high, 
Now  glideth  on  in  slender  lines  ; 
Far-reaching,  with  a  hundred  veins, 
Through  the  far  valley  see  it  glide, 
Here,  where  the  gorge  the  flood  restrains, 
At  once  it  scatters  far  and  wide  ; 
Anear,  like  showers  of  golden  sand 
Strewn  broadcast,  sputter  sparks  of  light : 
And  mark  yon  rocky  walls  that  stand 
Ablaze,  in  all  their  towering  height  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Sir  Mammon  for  this  festival, 

Grandly  illumes  his  palace  hall  ! 

To  see  it  was  a  lucky  chance  ; 

E'en  now  the  boist'rous  guests  advance. 

Faust. 
How  the  fierce  tempest  sweeps  around  ! 
Upon  my  neck  it  strikes  with  sudden  shock  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Cling  to  these  ancient  ribs  of  granite  rock, 
Else  it  will  hurl  you  down  to  yon  abyss  profound. 
A  murky  vapor  thickens  night. 
Hark  !  Through  the  woods  the  tempests  roar  ! 


178  GOETHE'S 

The  owlets  flit  in  wild  affright. 

Split  are  the  columns  that  upbore 

The  leafy  palace,  green  for  aye  : 

The  shivered  branches  whirr  and  sigh, 

Yawn  the  huge  trunks  with  mighty  groan, 

The  roots,  upriven,  creak  and  moan  ! 

In  fearful  and  entangled  fall, 

One  crashing  ruin  whelms  them  all, 

While  through  the  desolate  abyss, 

Sweeping  the  wreck-strown  precipice, 

The  raging  storm-blasts  howl  and  hiss  ! 

Hear'st  thou  voices  sounding  clear, 

Distant  now  and  now  more  near  ? 

Hark  !  the  mountain  ridge  along, 

Streameth  a  raving  magic-song  ! 

Witches  {in  chorus). 

Now  to  the  Brocken  the  witches  hie, 

The  stubble  is  yellow,  the  corn  is  green  ; 

Thither  the  gathering  legions  fly, 

And  sitting  aloft  is  Sir  Urian  seen  : 

O'er  stick  and  o'er  stone  they  go  whirling  along, 

Witches  and  he-goats,  a  motley  throng. 

Voices. 
Alone  old  Baubo's  coming  now  ; 
She  rides  upon  a  farrow  sow. 

Chorus. 
Honor  to  her,  to  whom  honor  is  due  ! 
Forward,  Dame  Baubo  !    Honor  to  you  1 
A  goodly  sow  and  mother  thereon, 
The  whole  witch  chorus  follows  anon. 

Voice. 
Which  way  didst  come  ? 


FAUST.  179 

Voice. 

O'er  Ilsenstein ! 
There  I  peep'd  in  an  owlet's  nest. 
With  her  broad  eye  she  gazed  in  mine  ! 

Voice. 
Drive  to  the  devil,  thou  hellish  pest  \ 
Why  ride  so  hard  ? 

Voice. 

She  has  graz'd  my  side, 
Look  at  the  wounds,  how  deep  and  how  wide  ! 

Witches  (in  chorus). 
The  way  is  broad,  the  way  is  long  ; 
What  mad  pursuit !    What  tumult  wild  ! 
Scratches  the  besom  and  sticks  the  prong  ; 
Crush'd  is  the  mother,  and  stifled  the  child. 

Wizards  {half  chorus). 
Like  house-encumber'd  snail  we  creep  ; 
While  far  ahead  the  women  keep, 
For  when  to  the  devil's  house  we  speed, 
By  a  thousand  steps  they  take  the  lead. 

The  Other  Half. 
Not  so,  precisely  do  we  view  it  ; — 
They  with  a  thousand  steps  may  do  it  ; 
But  let  them  hasten  as  they  can, 
With  one  long  bound  'tis  clear'd  by  man. 

Voices  (above). 
Come  with  us,  come  with  us  from  Felsensee. 

Voices  (from  below). 
Aloft  to  you  we  would  mount  with  glee  ! 
We  wash,  and  free  from  all  stain  are  we, 
Yet  barren  evermore  must  be  ! 


i8o 


GOETHE'S 


Both  Choruses. 
The  wind  is  hushed,  the  stars  grow  pale, 
The  pensive  moon  her  light  doth  veil  ; 
And  whirling  on,  the  magic  choir, 
Sputter  forth  sparks  of  drizzling  fire. 

Voice  {from  below). 
Stay  !  stay ! 

Voice  {from  above). 
What  voice  of  woe 
Calls  from  the  cavern'd  depths  below  ? 

Voice  {from  below). 
Take  me  with  you  !    Oh  take  me  too  ! 
Three  centuries  I  climb  in  vain, 
And  yet  can  ne'er  the  summit  gain  ! 
To  be  with  my  kindred  I  am  fain. 

Both  Choruses. 
Broom  and  pitch-fork,  goat  and  prong, 
Mounted  on  these  we  whirl  along  ; 
Who  vainly  strives  to  climb  to-night, 
Is  evermore  a  luckless  wight ! 

Demi-Witch  {below). 
I  hobble  after,  many  a  day  ; 
Already  the  others  are  far  away  ! 
No  rest  at  home  can  I  obtain — 
Here  too  my  efforts  are  in  vain  ! 

Chorus  of  Witches. 
Salve  gives  the  witches  strength  to  rise  \ 
A  rag  for  a  sail  does  well  enough  ; 
A  goodly  ship  is  every  trough  ; 
To-night  who  flies  not,  never  flies. 


FA  UST. 


Both  Choruses. 


181 


And  when  the  topmost  peak  we  round, 
Then  alight  ye  on  the  ground  ; 
The  heath's  wide  regions  cover  ye 
With  your  mad  swarms  of  witchery  ! 

{They  let  themselves  down.) 

Mephistopheles. 
They  crowd  and  jostle,  whirl  and  flutter  !    - 
They  whisper,  babble,  twirl,  and  splutter ! 
They  glimmer,  sparkle,  stink,  and  flare — 
A  true  witch-element  !     Beware  ! 
Stick  close  !  else  we  shall  severed  be. 
Where  art  thou  ? 

Faust  (in  the  distance). 
Here  ! 
Mephistopheles. 

Already,  whirl' d  so  far  away  ! 
The  master  then  indeed  I  needs  must  play. 
Give  ground  !    Squire  Voland  comes  !   Sweet  folk, 

give  ground  ! 
Here,  doctor,  grasp  me  !     With  a  single  bound 
Let  us  escape  this  ceaseless  jar  ; 
Even  for  me  too  mad  these  people  are. 
Hard  by  there  shineth  something  with  peculiar 

glare, 
Yon  brake  allureth  me  ;  it  is  not  far ; 
Come,  come  along  with  me  !  we  11  slip  in  there. 

Faust. 
Spirit    of    contradiction  !     Lead  !     I'll     follow 

straight  ! 
'Twas  wisely  done,  however,  to  repair 
One  May-night  to  the  Brocken,  and  when  there, 
By  our  own  choice  ourselves  to  isolate  ! 


l82 


GOETHE'S 


Mephistopheles. 
Mark,  of  those  flames  the  motley  glare  ! 
A  merry  club  assembles  there. 
In  a  small  circle  one  is  not  alone. 

Faust. 
I'd  rather  be  above,  though,  I  must  own  ! 
Already  fire  and  eddying  smoke  I  view  ; 
The  impetuous  millions  to  the  devil  ride  ; 
Full  many  a  riddle  will  be  there  untied. 

Mephistopheles. 

Ay  !  and  full  many  a  one  be  tied  anew. 

But  let  the  great  world  rave  and  riot  ! 

Here  we  will  house  ourselves  in  quiet. 

A  custom  'tis  of  ancient  date, 

Our  lesser  worlds  within  the  great  world  to  cre- 
ate ! 

Young  witches  there  I  see,  naked  and  bare, 

And  old  ones,  veil'd  more  prudently. 

For  my  sake  only  courteous  be  ! 

The  trouble's  small,  the  sport  is  rare. 

Of  instruments  I  hear  the  cursed  din — 

One  must  get  used  to  it.     Come  in  !  come  in  ! 

There's  now  no  help  for  it.     I'll  step  before, 

And  introducing  you  as  my  good  friend, 

Confer  on  you  one  obligation  more. 

How  say  you  now  ?     'Tis  no  such  paltry  room  ; 

Why  only  look,  you  scarce  can  see  the  end. 

A  hundred  fires  in  rows  disperse  the  gloom  ; 

They  dance,  they  talk,  they  cook,  make  love,  and 
drink  : 

Where  could  we  find  aught  better,  do  you  think  ? 

Faust. 
To  introduce  us,  do  you  purpose  here 
As  devil  or  as  wizard  to  appear  ? 


FA  UST.  I  %$ 


Mephistopheles. 

Though  I  am  wont  indeed  to  strict  incognito, 
Yet  upon  gala-days  one  must  one's  orders  show. 
No  garter  have  I  to  distinguish  me, 
Nathless  the  cloven  foot  doth  here  give  dignity. 
Seest  thou  yonder  snail  ?    Crawling  this  way  she 

hies  ; 
With  searching  feelers,  she,  no  doubt, 
Hath  me  already  scented  out ; 
Here,  even  if  I  would,  for  me  there's  no  disguise. 
From  fire  to  fire,  we'll  saunter  at  our  leisure, 
The  gallant  you,  I'll  cater  for  your  pleasure. 

(  To  a  party  seated  round  some  expiring  embers?) 
Old  gentlemen,  apart,  why  sit  ye  moping  here  ? 
Ye  in  the  midst  should  be  of  all  this  jovial  cheer, 
Girt  round  with  noise  and  youthful  riot  ; 
At  home  one  surely  has  enough  of  quiet. 

General. 

In  nations  put  his  trust,  who  may, 
Whate'er  for  them  one  may  have  done  ; 
The  people  are  like  women,  they 
Honor  your  rising  stars  alone  ! 

Minister. 

Too  far  from  truth  and  right  they  wander  now  ; 
I  must  extol  the  good  old  ways, 
For  truly  when  all  spoke  our  praise, 
Then  was  the  golden  age,  I  trow. 

Parvenu. 

Ne'er  were  we  'mong  your  dullards  found, 
And  what  we  ought  not,  that  we  did  of  old  ; 
Yet  now  are  all  things  turning  round, 
Just  when  we  most  desire  them  fast  to  hold. 


t84  GOETHE'S 

Author. 
Who,  as  a  rule,  a  treatise  now  would  care 
To  read,  of  even  moderate  sense  ? 
As  for  the  rising  generation,  ne'er 
Has  youth  displayed  such  arrogant  pretence. 

Mephistopheles  {suddenly  appearing  very  old). 

Since  for  the  last  time  I  the  Brocken  scale, 
That  folk  are  ripe  for  doomsday,  now  one  sees  ; 
And  just  because  my  cask  begins  to  fail, 
So  the  whole  world  is  also  on  the  lees. 

Huckster- Witch. 

Stop,  gentlemen,  nor  pass  me  by, 

Of  wares  I  have  a  choice  collection  : 

Pray  honor  them  with  your  inspection. 

Lose  not  this  opportunity  ! 

No  fellow  to  my  booth  you'll  find 

On  earth,  for  'mong  my  store  there's  naught, 

Which  to  the  world,  and  to  mankind, 

Hath  not  some  direful  mischief  wrought. 

No  dagger  here,  which  hath  not  flow'd  with  blood, 

No  bowl,    which   hath    not  poured   into   some 

healthy  frame 
Hot  poison's  life-consuming  flood, 
No  trinket,    but  hath   wrought  some  woman's 

shame, 
No  weapon  but  hath  cut  some  sacred  tie, 
Or  from  behind  hath  stabb'd  an  enemy. 

Mephistopheles. 

Gossip  !    For  wares  like  these  the  time's  gone  by. 
What's  done  is  past !  what's  past  is  done  ! 
With  novelties  your  booth  supply  ; 
Now  novelties  attract  alone. 


FAUST.  185 

Faust. 
May  this  wild  scene  my  senses  spare  ! 
This  may  in  truth  be  called  a  fair  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Upward  the  eddying  concourse  throng  ; 
Thinking  to  push,  thyself  art  push'd  along. 

Faust. 
Who's  that,  pray  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Mark  her  well  !     That's  Lilith- 

Faust. 

Who? 

Mephistopheles. 

Adam's  first  wife.     Of  her  rich  locks  beware  ! 
That  charm  in  which  she's  parallel'd  by  few  ; 
When  in  its  toils  a  youth  she  doth  ensnare, 
He  will  not  soon  escape,  I  promise  you. 

Faust. 
There  sit  a  pair,  the  old  one  with  the  young  ; 
Already  they  have  bravely  danced  and  sprung  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Here  there  is  no  repose  to-day. 
Another  dance  begins  ;    we'll  join  it,  come  away  \ 

Faust  {dancing  with  the  young  one). 
Once  a  fair  vision  came  to  me  ; 
Therein  I  saw  an  apple-tree, 
Two  beauteous  apples  charmed  mine  eyes  ; 
I  climb'd  forthwith  to  reach  the  prize. 


1 86  GOETHE'S 

The  Fair  One. 
Apples  still  fondly  ye  desire, 
From  paradise  it  hath  been  so. 
Feelings  of  joy  my  breast  inspire 
That  such  too  in  my  garden  grow. 

Mephistopheles  (with  the  old  one\ 
Once  a  weird  vision  came  to  me  ; 
Therein  I  saw  a  rifted  tree. 

It  had  a ; 

But  as  it  was  it  pleased  me  too. 

The  Old  One. 
I  beg  most  humbly  to  salute 
The  gallant  with  the  cloven  foot  \ 
Let  him  a    .     .     .     have  ready  here, 
If  he  a     .     .     .     does  not  fear. 

Proctophantasmist. 
Accursed  mob  !     How  dare  ye  thus  to  meet  I 
Have  I  not  shown  and  demonstrated  too, 
That  ghosts  stands  not  on  ordinary  feet  ? 
Yet  here  ye  dance,  as  other  mortals  do  ! 

The  Fair  One  (dancing). 
Then  at  our  ball,  what  doth  he  here  ? 

Faust  (dancing). 
Oh  !     He  must  everywhere  appear. 
He  must  adjudge,  when  others  dance  ; 
If  on  each  step  his  say's  not  said, 
So  is  that  step  as  good  as  never  made. 
He's  most  annoyed,  so  soon  as  we  advance  ; 
If  ye  would  circle  in  one  narrow  round, 
As  he  in  his  old  mill,  then  doubtless  he 
Your  dancing  would  approve, — especially 
If  ye  forthwith  salute  him  with  respect  profound  \ 


FA  UST. 


Proctophantasmist. 


187 


Still  here  !  what  arrogance  !  unheard  of  quite  ! 
Vanish  ;  we  now  have  fill'd  the  world  with  light  ! 
Laws  are  unheeded  by  the  devil's  host ; 
Wise  as  we  are,  yet  Tegel  hath  its  ghost ! 
How  long  at  this  conceit  I've  swept  with  all  my 

might, 
Lost  is  the  labor  :    'tis  unheard  of  quite  ! 

The  Fair  One. 
Cease  here  to  tease  us  any  more,  I  pray. 

Proctophantasmist. 

Spirits,  I  plainly  to  your  face  declare  : 
No  spiritual  control  myself  will  bear, 
Since  my  own  spirit  can  exert  no  sway. 

(  The  dancing  continues.) 
To-night,  I  see,  I  shall  in  naught  succeed  ; 
But  I'm  prepar'd  my  travels  to  pursue, 
And  hope,  before  my  final  step  indeed, 
To  triumph  over  bards  and  devils  too. 

Mephistopheles. 

Now  in  some  puddle  will  he  take  his  station, 
Such  is  his  mode  of  seeking  consolation  ; 
Where  leeches,  feasting  on  his  blood,  will  drain 
Spirit  and  spirits  from  his  haunted  brain. 

(  To  Faust,  who  has  left  the  danced) 
But  why  the  charming  damsel  leave,  I  pray, 
Who  to  you  in  the  dance  so  sweetly  sang  ? 

Faust. 

Ah  !  in  the  very  middle  of  her  lay, 

Out  of  her  mouth  a  small  red  mouse  there  sprang. 


1 88 


GOETHE'S 


Mephistopheles. 
Suppose  there  did  !     One  must  not  be  too  nice : 
'Twas  well  it  was  not  gray,  let  that  suffice. 
Who  'mid  his  pleasures  for  a  trifle  cares  ? 

Faust. 
Then  saw  I — 

Mephistopheles. 

What? 

Faust. 
Mephisto,  seest  thou  there 
Standing  far  off,  a  lone  child,  pale  and  fair  ? 
Slow  from  the  spot  her  drooping  form  she  tears, 
And  seems  with  shackled  feet  to  move  along  ; 
I  own,  within  me  the  delusion's  strong, 
That  she  the  likeness  of  my  Gretchen  wears. 

Mephistopheles. 

Gaze  not  upon  her  !     'Tis  not  good  !     Forbear  ! 
'Tis  lifeless,  magical,  a  shape  of  air, 
An  idol.     Such  to  meet  with,  bodes  no  good  ; 
That  rigid  look  of  hers  doth  freeze  man's  blood, 
And  well-nigh  petrifies  his  heart  to  stone  : — 
The  story  of  Medusa  thou  hast  known. 

Faust. 
Ay,  verily  !  a  corpse's  eyes  are  those, 
Which  there  was  no  fond  loving  hand  to  close. 
That  is  the  bosom  I  so  fondly  press'd, 
That  my  sweet  Gretchen' s  form,  so  oft  caress'd  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Deluded  fool !     'Tis  magic,  I  declare  ! 
To  each  she  doth  his  lov'd  one's  image  wear. 


FAUST.  t&9 

Faust. 
What  bliss  !  what  torture  !  vainly  I  essay 
To  turn  me  from  that  piteous  look  away. 
How  strangely  doth  a  single  crimson  line 
Around  that  lovely  neck  its  coil  entwine, 
It  shows  no  broader  than  a  knife's  blunt  edge  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
Quite  right.     I  see  it  also,  and  allege 
That  she  beneath  her  arm  her  head  can  bear, 
Since  Perseus  cut  it  off. — But  you  I  swear 
Are  craving  for  illusion  still  ! 
Come  then,  ascend  yon  little  hill  ! 
As  on  the  Prater  all  is  gay, 
And  if  my  senses  are  not  gone, 
I  see  a  theatre, — what's  going  on  ? 

Servibilis. 
They  are  about  to  recommence  ; — the  play 
Will  be  the  last  of  seven,  and  spick-span  new — 
'Tis  usual  here  that  number  to  present — 
A  dilettante  will  enact  it  too. 
Excuse  me,  gentlemen  ;  to  me's  assign'd 
As  dilettante  to  uplift  the  curtain. 

Mephistopheles. 
You  on  the  Blocksberg  I'm  rejoiced  to  find, 
That  'tis  your  most  appropriate  sphere  is  certain. 


WALPURGIS-NIGHT'S  DREAM  ; 

OR, 

OBERON      AND      TITANIA'S      GOLDEN 
WEDDING-FEAST 


INTERMEZZO. 


Theatre. 

Manager. 

Vales,  where  mists  still  shift  and  play, 

To  ancient  hill  succeeding, — 
These  our  scenes  ; — so  we,  to  day, 
May  rest,  brave  sons  of  Mieding. 

Herald. 
That  the  marriage  golden  be, 

Must  fifty  years  be  ended  ; 
More  dear  this  feast  of  gold  to  me, 

Contention  now  suspended. 

Oberon. 
Spirits,  are  ye  hovering  near, 

Show  yourselves  around  us  ! 
King  and  queen  behold  ye  here, 

Love  hath  newly  bound  us. 

Puck. 
Puck  draws  near  and  wheels  about, 

In  mazy  circles  dancing  ! 
Hundreds  swell  his  joyous  shout, 

Behind  him  still  advancing. 


FA  UST.  1 9 l 


Ariel. 
Ariel  wakes  his  dainty  air, 

His  lyre  celestial  stringing. — 
Fools  he  lureth,  and  the  fair, 

With  his  celestial  singing. 

Oberon. 

Wedded  ones,  would  ye  agree, 

We  court  your  imitation  : 
Would  ye  fondly  love  as  we, 

We  counsel  separation. 

TlTANIA. 

If  husband  scold  and  wife  retort, 

Then  bear  them  far  asunder  ; 
Her  to  the  burning  south  transport, 

And  him  the  North  Pole  under. 

The  Whole  Orchestra  (fortissimo). 

Flies  and  midges  all  unite 

With  frog  and  chirping  cricket, 

Our  orchestra  throughout  the  night, 
Resounding  in  the  thicket  ! 

{Solo.) 
Yonder  doth  the  bagpipe  come  ! 

Its  sack  an  airy  bubble. 
Schnick,  schnick,  schnack,  with  nasal  hum. 

Its  notes  it  doth  redouble. 

Embryo  Spirit. 

Spider's  foot  and  midge's  wing, 

A  toad  in  form  and  feature  ; 
Together  verses  it  can  string, 

Though  scarce  a  living  creature. 


I92  GOETHE'S 

A  Little  Pair. 

Tiny  step  and  lofty  bound, 
Through  dew  and  exhalation  ; 

Ye  trip  it  deftly  on  the  ground, 
But  gain  no  elevation. 

Inquisitive  Traveller. 

Can  I  indeed  believe  my  eyes  ? 

Is't  not  mere  masquerading  ? 
What !     Oberon  in  beauteous  guise, 

Among  the  groups  parading  ! 

Orthodox. 

No  claws,  no  tail  to  whisk  about, 
To  fright  us  at  our  revel  ; — 

Yet  like  the  gods  of  Greece,  no  doubt3 
He  too's  a  genuine  devil. 

Northern  Artist. 

These  that  I'm  hitting  off  to-day 
Are  sketches  unpretending ; 

Toward  Italy  without  delay, 
My  steps  I  think  of  bending. 

Purist. 

Alas  !  ill-fortune  leads  me  here, 
Where  riot  still  grows  louder  ; 

And  'mong  the  witches  gather'd  here, 
But  two  alone  wear  powder  ! 

Young  Witch. 

Your  powder  and  your  petticoat, 
Suit  hags,  there's  no  gainsaying  ; 

Hence  I  sit  fearless  on  my  goat, 
My  naked  charms  displaying. 


FA  UST.  I  93 

Matron. 

We're  too  well-bred  to  squabble  here, 

Or  insult  back  to  render  ; 
But  may  you  wither  soon,  my  dear, 

Although  so  young  and  tender. 

Leader  of  the  Band. 

Nose  of  fly  and  gnat's  proboscis, 

Throng  not  the  naked  beauty  ! 
Frogs  and  crickets  in  the  mosses, 

Keep  time  and  do  your  duty  ! 

Weathercock  {toward  one  side). 

What  charming  company  I  view 

Together  here  collected  ! 
Gay  bachelors,  a  hopeful  crew, 

And  brides  so  unaffected  ! 

Weathercock  {toward  the  other  side) „ 

Unless  indeed  the  yawning  ground 

Should  open  to  receive  them, 
From  this  vile  crew,  with  sudden  bound, 

To  Hell  I'd  jump  and  leave  them. 

Xenien. 

With  small  sharp  shears,  in  insect  guise, 

Behold  us  at  your  revel ! 
That  we  may  tender,  filial-wise, 

Our  homage  to  the  devil. 

Hennings. 

Look  now  at  yonder  eager  crew, 

How  naively  they're  jesting  ! 
That  they  have  tender  hearts  and  true, 

They  stoutly  keep  protesting  ! 


J94  GOETHE'S 

MUSAGET. 

Oneself  amid  this  witchery 
How  pleasantly  one  loses  ; 

For  witches  easier  are  to  me 
To  govern  than  the  Muses  ! 

Ci-devant  Genius  of  the  Age. 

With  proper  folks  when  we  appear, 
No  one  can  then  surpass  us  ! 

Keep  close,  wide  is  the  Blocksberg  here 
As  Germany's  Parnassus. 

Inquisitive  Traveller. 

How  name  ye  that  stiff  formal  man, 
Who  strides  with  lofty  paces  ? 

He  tracks  the  game  where'er  he  can, 
M  He  scents  the  Jesuits'  traces." 

Crane. 

Where  waters  troubled  are  or  clear, 

To  fish  I  am  delighted  ; 
Thus  pious  gentlemen  appear 

With  devils  here  united. 

Worldling. 

By  pious  people,  it  is  true, 

No  medium  is  rejected  ; 
Conventicles,  and  not  a  few, 

On  Blocksberg  are  erected. 

Dancer. 

Another  choir  is  drawing  nigh, 
Far  off  the  drums  are  beating. 

Be  still !  'tis  but  the  bittern's  cry, 
Its  changeless  note  repeating. 


FAUST,  195 

Dancing  Master. 

Each  twirls  about  and  never  stops, 

And  as  he  can  advances. 
The  crooked  leaps,  the  clumsy  hops, 

Nor  careth  how  he  dances. 

Fiddler. 

To  take  each  other's  life,  I  trow, 

Would  cordially  delight  them  ! 
As  Orpheus*  lyre  the  beasts,  so  now 

The  bagpipe  doth  unite  them. 

Dogmatist. 

My  views,  in  spite  of  doubt  and  sneer, 

I  hold  with  stout  persistence, 
Inferring  from  the  devils  here, 

The  evil  one's  existence. 

Idealist. 

My  every  sense  rules  Phantasy 
With  sway  quite  too  potential  ; 

Sure  I'm  demented  if  the  / 
Alone  is  the  essential. 

Realist. 

This  entity's  a  dreadful  bore, 
And  cannot  choose  but  vex  me  ; 

The  ground  beneath  me  ne'er  before 
Thus  totter'd  to  perplex  me. 

Supernaturalist. 

Well  pleased  assembled  here  I  view 

Of  spirits  this  profusion  ; 
From  devils,  touching  angels  too, 

I  gather  some  conclusion. 


196  GOETHE'S 

Sceptic. 

The  ignis  fatuus  they  track  out, 

And  think  they're  near  the  treasure. 

Devil  alliterates  with  doubt, 
Here  I  abide  with  pleasure. 

Leader  of  the  Band. 

Frog  and  cricket  in  the  mosses, — 
Confound  your  gasconading  ! 

Nose  of  fly  and  gnat's  proboscis  ; — 
Most  tuneful  serenading  ! 

The  Knowing  Ones. 

Sans-souci,  so  this  host  we  greet, 
Their  jovial  humor  showing  ; 

There's  now  no  walking  on  our  feet, 
So  on  our  heads  we're  going. 

The  Awkward  Ones. 

In  seasons  past  we  snatch 'd,  'tis  true, 
Some  tit-bits  by  our  cunning  ; 

Our  shoes,  alas,  are  now  danced  through, 
On  our  bare  soles  we're  running. 

WlLL-O*  -THE-WISPS. 

From  marshy  bogs  we  sprang  to  light, 
Yet  here  behold  us  dancing  ; 

The  gayest  gallants  of  the  night, 
In  glitt'ring  rows  advancing. 

Shooting  Star. 

With  rapid  motion  from  on  high, 

I  shot  in  starry  splendor  ; 
Now  prostrate  on  the  grass  I  lie  ; — 

Who  aid  will  kindly  render  ? 


FAUST.  197 

The  Massive  Ones. 
Room  !  wheel  round  !    They're  coming  !  lo  ! 

Down  sink  the  bending  grasses. 
Though  spirits,  yet  their  limbs,  we  know, 

Are  huge  substantial  masses. 

Puck. 
Don't  stamp  so  heavily,  I  pray  ; 

Like  elephants  you're  treading  ! 
And  'mong  the  elves  be  Puck  to-day, 

The  stoutest  at  the  wedding  ! 

Ariel. 
If  nature  boon,  or  subtle  sprite, 

Endow  your  soul  with  pinions  ; — 
Then  follow  to  yon  rosy  height, 

Through  ether's  calm  dominions  ! 

Orchestra  (pianissimo). 
Drifting  cloud  and  misty  wreaths 

Are  filled  with  light  elysian  ; 
O'er  reed  and  leaf  the  zephyr  breathes — 

So  fades  the  fairy  vision  ! 


A  gloomy  Day.     A  Plain.     Faust  and  MEPHIS- 
topheles. 

Faust. 
In  misery  !  despairing  !  long  wandering  piti- 
fully on  the  face  of  the  earth  and  now  impris- 
oned !  This  gentle  hapless  creature,  immured 
in  the  dungeon  as  a  malefactor  and  reserved  for 
horrid  tortures  !  That  it  should  come  to  this  !  To 
this  ! — Perfidous,  worthless  spirit,  and  this  thou 
hast  concealed  from  me  !— Stand  ! — ay,  stand  ! 
roll  in  malicious  rage  thy  fiendish  eyes  !     Stand 


198  GOETHE'S 

and  brave  me  with  thine  insupportable  presence  ! 
Imprisoned !  In  hopeless  misery !  Delivered 
over  to  the  power  of  evil  spirits  and  the  judg- 
ment of  unpitying  humanity ! — And  me,  the 
while,  thou  wert  lulling  with  tasteless  dissipations, 
concealing  from  me  her  growing  anguish,  and 
leaving  her  to  perish  without  help  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
She  is  not  the  first. 

Faust. 

Hound  !  Execrable  monster  ! — Back  with  him, 
oh  thou  infinite  spirit  !  back  with  the  reptile  into 
his  dog's  shape,  in  which  it  was  his  wont  to 
scamper  before  me  at  eventide,  to  roll  before  the 
feet  of  the  harmless  wanderer,  and  to  fasten  on 
his  shoulders  when  he  fell  !  Change  him  again 
into  his  favorite  shape,  that  he  may  crouch  on  his 
belly  before  me  in  the  dust,  while  I  spurn  him 
with  my  foot,  the  reprobate  ! — Not  the  first ! — 
Woe  !  Woe  !  By  no  human  soul  is  it  conceiva- 
ble, that  more  than  one  human  creature  has  ever 
sunk  into  a  depth  of  wretchedness  like  this,  or 
that  the  first  in  her  writhing  death-agony,  should 
not  have  atoned  in  the  sight  of  all-pardoning 
Heaven,  for  the  guilt  of  all  the  rest  !  The  misery 
of  this  one  pierces  me  to  the  very  marrow,  and 
harrows  up  my  soul ;  thou  art  grinning  calmly 
over  the  doom  of  thousands  ! 

Mephistopheles. 

Now  we  are  once  again  at  our  wit's  end,  just 
where  the  reason  of  you  mortals  snaps  !  Why  dost 
thou  seek  our  fellowship,  if  thou  canst  not  go 
through   with  it  ?     Wilt  fly,  and  art   not  proof 


FAUST.  199 

against  dizziness  ?  Did  we  force  ourselves  on  thee, 
or  thou  on  us  ? 

Faust. 
Cease  thus  to  gnash  thy  ravenous  fangs  at  me  ! 
I  loathe  thee  !— Great  and  glorious  spirit,  thou 
who  didst  vouchsafe  to  reveal  thyself  unto  me, 
thou  who  dost  know  my  very  heart  and  soul,  why 
hast  thou  linked  me  with  this  base  associate,  who 
feeds  on  mischief  and  revels  in  destruction  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
Hast  done  ? 

Faust. 
Save   her  !— or  woe   to   thee  !    The   direst  of 
curses  on  thee  for  thousands  of  years  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I  cannot  loose  the  bands  of  the  avengers,  nor 
withdraw   his  bolts. — Save    her  ! — Who  was   it 
plunged  her  into  perdition  ?  I  or  thou  ? 

Faust  {looks  wildly  around). 
Mephistopheles. 
Would'st  grasp  the  thunder?  Well  for  you, 
poor  mortals,  that  'tis  not  yours  to  wield  !  To 
smite  to  atoms,  the  being  however  innocent, 
who  obstructs  his  path,  such  is  the  tyrant's  fashion 
of  relieving  himself  in  difficulties  ! 

Faust.. 
Convey  me  thither  !     She  shall  be  free  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
And  the  danger  to  which  thou  dost  expose  thy- 
self ?     Know,  the  guilt  of  blood,  shed   by  thy 
hand,  lies  yet  upon  the  town.     Over  the  place 


200  GOETHE'S 

where   fell   the   murdered  one,  avenging   spirits 
hover  and  watch  for  the  returning  murderer. 

Faust. 
This  too  from  thee  ?     The  death  and  downfall 
of  a  world  be  on  thee,  monster !     Conduct   me 
thither,  I  say,  and  set  her  free  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
I  will  conduct  thee.  And  what  I  can  do, — 
hear !  Have  I  all  power  in  heaven  and  upon 
earth  ?  I'll  cloud  the  senses  of  the  warder, — do 
thou  possess  thyself  of  the  keys  and  lead  her 
forth  with  human  hand  !  I  will  keep  watch. 
The  magic  steeds  are  waiting  I  bear  thee  off. 
Thus  much  is  in  my  power. 

Faust. 
Up  and  away  ! 

Night.     Open    country.     Faust    and   Mephis- 
topheles rushing  along  on  black  horses. 

Faust. 
What  weave  they  yonder  round  the  Ravenstone  ? 

Mephistopheles. 
I  know  not  what  they  shape  and  brew. 

Faust. 
They're  soaring,  swooping,  bending,  stooping. 

Mephistopheles. 
A  witches'  pack. 

Faust. 
They  charm,  they  strew. 


On  !  On  ! 


FAUST.  20 1 

Mephistopheles. 


Dungeon. 

Faust  {with  a  bunch  of  keys  and  a  lamp  before  a 

small  iron  door). 
A  fear  unwonted  o'er  my  spirit  falls  ; 
Man's  concentrated  woe  o'erwhelms  me  here  ! 
She  dwells  immur'd  within  these  dripping  walls  ; 
Her  only  trespass  a  delusion  dear  ! 
Thou  lingerest  at  the  fatal  door? 
Thou  dread'st  to  see  her  face  once  more  ? 
On  !     While  thou  dalliest,  draws  her  death-hour 
near.    {He  seizes  the  lock.   Singing  within.) 
My  mother,  the  harlot, 
She  took  me  and  slew  ! 
My  father,  the  scoundrel, 
Hath  eaten  me  too  ) 
My  sweet  little  sister 
Hath  all  my  bones  laid, 
Where  soft  breezes  whisper 
All  in  the  cool  shade  ! 
Then  became  I  a  wood-bird,  and  sang  on  the 

spray, 
Fly  away  !   little  bird,  fly  away  !    fly  away  ! 

Faust  {opening  the  lock). 
Ah  !  she  forebodes  not  that  her  lover's  near, 
The  clanking  chains,  the  rustling  straw,  to  hear. 

{He  enters.) 
MARGARET  {hiding  her  face  in  the  bed  of  straw). 
Woe  !  woe  !  they  come  !  oh  bitter  'tis  to  die  ! 

FAUST  {softly). 
Hush  !  hush  !  be  still  !  I  come  to  set  thee  free  ! 


202  GOETHE'S 

Margaret  {throwing  herself  at  his  feet). 
If  thou  art  human,  feel  my  misery  ! 

Faust. 
Thou  wilt  awake  the  jailer  with  thy  cry  ! 

{He  grasps  the  chains  to  unlock  them.) 

Margaret  (on  her  knees). 
Who,  headsman,  unto  thee  this  power 
O'er  me  could  give  ? 
Thou  com'st  for  me  at  midnight-hour. 
Be  merciful,  and  let  me  live  ! 
Is  morrow's  dawn  not  time  enough  ? 

(She  stands  up.) 
I'm  still  so  young,  so  young — 
And  must  so  early  die  ! 
Fair  was  I  too,  and  that  was  my  undoing. 
My  love  is  now  afar,  he  then  was  nigh  ; 
Torn  lies  the  garland,  the  fair  blossoms  strew'd. 
Nay,  seize  me  not  with  hand  so  rude  ! 
Spare  me  !     What  harm  have  I  e'er  done  to  thee  ? 
Oh  let  me  not  in  vain  implore  ! 
I  ne'er  have  seen  thee  in  my  life  before  ! 

Faust. 
Can  I  endure  this  bitter  agony  ? 

Margaret. 
I  now  am  at  thy  mercy  quite. 
Let  me  my  babe  but  suckle  once  again ! 
I  fondled  it  the  live-long  night ; 
They  took  it  from  me  but  to  give  me  pain, 
And  now,  they  say  that  I  my  child  have  slain. 
Gladness  I  ne'er  again  shall  know. 
t  Then  they  sing  songs  about  me, — 'tis  wicked  of 
the  throng — 


FA  UST.  203 

An  ancient  ballad  endeth  so  ; 

Who  bade  them  thus  apply  the  song  ? 

Faust  {throwing  himself  on  the  ground). 
A  lover  at  thy  feet  bends  low, 
To  loose  the  bonds  of  wretchedness  and  woe. 

Margaret  (throws  herself  beside  him). 
Oh,  let  us  kneel  and  move  the  saints  by  prayer  ! 
Look  !  look  !  yon  stairs  below, 
Under  the  threshold  there, 
Hell's  flames  are  all  aglow  ! 
Beneath  the  floor, 
With  hideous  noise, 
The  devils  roar  ! 

Faust  (aloud). 
Gretchen  !  Gretchen  ! 

Margaret  (listening). 
That  was  my  lov'd  one's  voice  ! 

(She  springs  upy  the  chains  fall  off.) 
Where  is  he  ?    I  heard  him  calling  me. 
Free  am  I  !     There's  none  shall  hinder  me. 
To  his  neck  will  I  fly, 
On  his  bosom  will  lie  ! 

Gretchen,  he  called  ! — On  yon  threshold  he  stood  ; 
Amidst  all  the  howling  of  hell's  fiery  flood, 
The  scoff  and  the  scorn  of  its  devilish  crew, 
The  tones  of  his  voice,  sweet  and  loving,  I  knew. 

Faust. 
'Tis  I  ! 

Margaret. 
'Tis  thou  !  O  say  so  once  again  ! 

(Embracing  him.) 
'Tis  he  !    'Tis  he  !    where's  now  the  torturing 
pain? 


204  GOETHE'S 

Where  are  the   fetters?    where  the  dungeon's 

gloom  ? 
'Tis  thou  !   to  save  me  thou  art  come  ! 
And  I  am  sav'd  ! — 
Already  now  the  street  I  see 
Where  the  first  time  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  thee. 
There  too  the  pleasant  garden  shade, 
Where  I  and  Martha  for  thy  coming  stay'd. 

Faust  {endeavoring  to  lead  her  away). 
Come  !  come  away  ! 

Margaret. 

Oh  do  not  haste  ! 
I  love  to  linger  where  thou  stayest. 

{Caressing  him.) 
Faust. 
Ah  haste  !    For  if  thou  still  delayest, 
Our  lingering  we  shall  both  deplore. 

Margaret. 
How,  dearest?  canst  thou  kiss  no  more  ! 
So  short  a  time  away  from  me,  and  yet, 
To  kiss  thou  couldst  so  soon  forget  ! 
Why  on  thy  neck  so  anxious  do  I  feel — 
When  formerly  a  perfect  heaven  of  bliss 
From  thy  dear  looks  and  words  would  o'er  me 

steal ? 
As  thou  wouldst  stifle  me  thou  then  didst  kiss  ! — 
Kiss  me  ! 

Or  I'll  kiss  thee  !  {She  embraces  him.) 

Woe  !  woe  !  thy  lips  are  cold, — 
Are  dumb  ! 

Thy  love  where  hast  thou  left  ? 
Who  hath  me  of  thy  love  bereft  ? 

{She  turns  away  from  him.) 


FA  UST.  205 

Faust. 
Come  !     Follow  me,  my  dearest  love,  be  bold  ! 
I'll  cherish  thee  with  ardor  thousand-fold  ; 
I  but  entreat  thee  now  to  follow  me ! 

Margaret  {turning  toward  him). 
And  art  thou  he  ?  and  art  thou  really  he  ? 

Faust. 
'Tis  I  !     Oh  come  ! 

Margaret. 

Thou  wilt  strike  off  my  chain, 
And  thou  wilt  take  me  to  thine  arms  again. 
How  comes  it  that  thou  dost  not  shrink  from 

me? — 
And  dost  thou  know,  love,  whom  thou  wouldst 
set  free  ? 

Faust. 
Come  !  come  !  already  night  begins  to  wane. 

Margaret. 
I  sent  my  mother  to  her  grave, 
I  drown'd  my  child  beneath  the  wave. 
Was  it  not  given  to  thee  and  n*e — thee  too  ? 
'Tis  thou  thyself  !     I  scarce  believe  it  yet. 
Give  me  thy  hand  !     It  is  no  dream  !     'Tis  true  ! 
Thine  own  dear  hand  ! — But  how  is  this  ?    'Tis 

wet ! 
Quick,  wipe  it  off  !     Meseems  that  yet 
There's  blood  thereon. 
Ah  God  !  what  hast  thou  done  ? 
Put  up  thy  sword, 
I  beg  of  thee  ! 

Faust. 
Oh,  dearest,  let  the  past  forgotten  be  ! 
Death  is  in  every  word. 


206  GOETHE'S 

Margaret. 

No,  thou  must  linger  here  in  sorrow  ! 

The  graves  I  will  describe  to  thee, 

And  thou  to  them  must  see 

To-morrow  : 

The  best  place  give  to  my  mother, 

Close  at  her  side  my  brother, 

Me  at  some  distance  lay — 

But  not  too  far  away  ! 

And  the  little  one  place  on  my  right  breast. 

Nobody  else  will  near  me  lie  ! 

To  nestle  beside  thee  so  lovingly, 

That  was  a  rapture,  gracious  and  sweet ! 

A  rapture  I  never  again  shall  prove  ; 

Methinks  I  would  force  myself  on  thee,  love, 

And  thou  dost  spurn  me,  and  back  retreat — 

Yet  'tis  thyself,  thy  fond  kind  looks  I  see. 

Faust. 
If  thou  dost  feel  'tis  I,  then  come  with  me  ! 

Margaret. 
What,  there  ?  without  ? 

Faust. 

Yes,  forth  in  the  free  air. 

Margaret. 

Ay,  if  the  grave's  without, — If  death  lurk  there  ! 
Hence  to  the  everlasting  resting  place, 
And  not  one  step  beyond  ! — Thou'rt  leaving  me? 
Oh  Henry  !  would  that  I  could  go  with  thee  ! 

Faust. 
Thou  canst  !     But  will  it  !    Open  stands  the  door. 


207 


Margaret. 


I  dare  not  go  !     I've  naught  to  hope  for  more. 
What  boots  it  to  escape  ?     They  lurk  for  me  ! 
'Tis  wretched  to  beg,  as  I  must  do, 
And  with  an  evil  conscience  thereto ! 
'Tis  wretched,  in  foreign  lands  to  stray  ; 
And  me  they  will  catch,  do  what  I  may  I 

Faust. 
With  thee  will  I  abide. 

Margaret. 

Quick  !     Quick  ! 

Save  thy  poor  child  ! 

Keep  to  the  path 

The  brook  along, 

Over  the  bridge 

To  the  wood  beyond, 

To  the  left,  where  the  plank  is, 

In  the  pond. 

Seize  it  at  once  ! 

It  fain  would  rise, 

It  struggles  still  ! 

Save  it.     Oh  save 

Faust. 

Dear  Gretchen,  more  collected  be  ! 
One  little  step,  and  thou  art  free  ! 

Margaret. 

Were  we  but  only  past  the  hill  ! 
There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone — 
My  brain,  alas,  is  cold  with  dread  ! — • 
There  sits  my  mother  upon  a  stone, 
And  to  and  fro  she  shakes  her  head  ; 


208 


GOETHE'S 


She  winks  not,  she  nods  not,  her  head  it  droops 

sore  ; 
She  slept  so  long,  she  waked  no  more  ; 
She  slept,  that  we  might  taste  of  bliss  : 
Ah  !  those  were  happy  times,  I  wis  ! 

Faust. 
Since  here  avails  nor  argument  nor  prayer, 
Thee  hence  by  force  I  needs  must  bear. 

Margaret. 
Loose  me  !     I  will  not  suffer  violence  ! 
With  murderous  hand  hold  not  so  fast  \ 
I  have  done  all  to  please  thee  in  the  past ! 

Faust. 
Day  dawns  !     My  love  !     My  love  ! 

Margaret. 

Yes  !  day  draws  near. 
The  day  of  judgment  too  will  soon  appear  ! 
It  should  have  been  my  bridal !     No  one  tell, 
That   thy  poor   Gretchen  thou  hast  known   too 

well. 
Woe  to  my  garland  ! 
Its  bloom  is  o'er  ! 
Though  not  at  the  dance — 
We  shall  meet  once  more. 
The  crowd  doth  gather,  in  silence  it  rolls  ; 
The  squares,  the  streets, 
Scarce  hold  the  throng. 
The  staff  is  broken, — the  death-bell  tolls, — 
They  bind  and  seize  me  !     I'm  hurried  along, 
To  the  seat  of  blood  already  I'm  bound  ! 
Quivers  each  neck  as  the  naked  steel 
Quivers  on  mine  the  blow  to  deal — 
The  silence  of  the  grave  now  broods  around  ! 


FAUST.  209 

Faust. 
Would  I  had  ne'er  been  born  ! 

Mephistopheles  {appears  without). 
Up  !  or  you're  lost. 

Vain  hesitation  !     Babbling,  quaking  ! 
My  steeds  are  shivering, 
Morn  is  breaking. 

Margaret. 
What  from  the  floor  ascendeth  like  a  ghost  ? 
"lis   he !     'Tis    he  !     Him   from  my    presence 

chase  ! 
What  would  he  in  this  holy  place  ? 
It  is  for  me  he  cometh  ! 

Faust. 

Thou  shalt  live  ! 
Margaret. 
Judgment  of  God  !     To  thee  my  soul  I  give  ! 

Mephistopheles  (to  Faust). 
Come  !  come  !     I'll  leave  thee  else  to  share  her 
doom  ! 

Margaret. 
Father,  I'm  thine  !     Save  me  !     To  thee  I  come  ! 
Ye  angels  !     Ye  angelic  host !  descend, 
Encamp  around  to  guard  me  and  defend  ! — 
Henry  !    I  shudder  now  to  look  on  thee  ! 

Mephistopheles. 
She  now  is  judged  ! 

Voices  {from  above). 
Is  saved  ! 


2IO  FAUST. 

Mephistopheles  {to  Faust). 

Come  thou  with  me  ! 

(  Vanishes  with  Faust.) 

Voice  {from  within,  dying  away). 
Henry  !     Henry ! 


COMMENT 

ON   THE 

TRAGEDY    OF     FAUST, 


COMMENT 

ON  THE 

TRAGEDY  OF  FAUST. 


Goethe's  m  Faust  "  has  been  likened  by  Kuno 
Fischer  to  Dante's  poem  of  Hell,  Purgatory,  and 
Paradise  ;  sprung,  as  he  says,  from  the  inner- 
most genius  of  the  Italian  people,  this  poem, 
transcending  its  national  limits,  may  be  regard- 
ed as  the  poetical  reflex  of  the  middle  ages. 
Goethe's  "  Faust  "  bears  a  similar  relation  to  the 
genius  of  the  German  people  ;  giving  complete 
expression  to  their  innermost  characteristics,  it 
has  become  their  "  Divina  Commedia." 

Genuine  poetical  material,  he  adds,  is  not  arti- 
ficially produced  ;  it  obeys  the  laws  of  living  or- 
ganisms, is  transmitted  from  generation  to  gener- 
ation, and  bears  the  impress  of  each  succeeding 
age  ;  thus  the  Faust-legend  had  lived  in  the 
spirit  of  the  German  people  for  two  hundred  years 
before  its  adoption  by  Goethe.  A  light  sketch  of 
its  history  may  throw  light  upon  his  poem  in 
which  it  has  found  its  latest  development. 

The  Faust-legend  was  a  continuation  of  the 
Magus-legend,  which  arose  in  ancient  times  from 
the  deification  of  the  powers  of  nature  ;  in  ac- 
cordance with  this  conception,  philosophers,  who 
penetrated  more  deeply  than  ordinary  mortals 
into  the  mysteries  of  nature,    were  believed   to 


214  COMMENT  ON   THE 

be  endowed  with  supernatural  powers,  and  were 
regarded  with  veneration,  as  wonder-workers  or 
magi. 

With  the  advent  of  Christianity,  the  divinities 
of  the  ancient  world  were  transformed  into  de- 
mons, and  became  associated  in  the  popular  im- 
agination with  Satan  ;  hence,  under  its  influence, 
magic  became  invested  with  a  diabolical  charac- 
ter and  was  reprobated  as  a  league  with  the  pow- 
ers of  evil ;  at  the  same  time  the  church,  being 
more  potent  than  hell,  could,  it  was  supposed, 
offer  an  infallible  antidote  to  its  machinations. 
This  power  was  forfeited  at  the  Reformation, 
when  the  Pope,  in  accordance  with  the  Protes- 
tantism of  the  age,  was  regarded  as  Antichrist ; 
the  church,  divested  of  its  sacred  character,  could 
no  longer  offer  a  refuge  to  the  votary  of  magic, 
and  hence  the  bond-slave  of  Satan,  at  the  expi- 
ration of  the  appointed  term,  inevitably  became  his 
prey  ;  thus,  in  the  sixteenth  century  a  profoundly 
tragical  character  was  impressed  upon  the  medie- 
val legend,  which  was  also  modified  by  the  Re- 
naissance. 

In  the  sixteenth  century  the  Magus-legend  be- 
came associated  with  Faust,  who  may  be  consider- 
ed first  as  an  historical,  and  then  as  a  legendary 
personage,  and  finally  as  the  hero  of  German 
popular  literature.  Magic,  notwithstanding  its 
supposed  diabolical  character,  being  held  in  high 
esteem  in  the  sixteenth  century,  its  votaries  formed 
a  numerous  class,  embracing  men  of  every  variety 
of  culture,  from  students  like  Agrippa  and  Par- 
acelsus down  to  the  mountebank  and  quack. 
One  of  these  individuals,  in  whose  person  the 
features  of  popular  magic  were  strikingly  exhib- 
ited, left  behind  him  an  enduring  name  which 


TRAGEDY  OF  FAUST.  215 

became  associated  with  the  mediaeval  Magus- 
legend. 

This  individual  was  John  Faust,  the  townsman 
and  contemporary  of  Melancthon  ;  from  1516  to 
1525  he  resided  with  his  friend  the  Abbot  of  Maul- 
bronn,  where  the  Faust-kitchen  and  Faust-tower 
still  exist  ;  he  subsequently  appeared  at  Witten- 
berg, where  he  was  earnestly  exhorted  by  Me- 
lancthon on  account  of  his  magical  arts  ;  escap- 
ing thence  by  flight,  from  impending  imprison- 
ment, he  wandered  through  the  world,  and  finally 
ended  his  life  in  a  village  of  Wiirtemburg. 
While  residing  in  Wittenberg  he  boasted  that 
the  defeat  of  the  imperial  army  in  Italy  was  the 
result  of  his  magical  arts  ;  the  devil  was  said  to 
have  accompanied  him  in  the  form  of  a  black 
hound. 

To  guard  against  misconception,  it  may  be 
remarked  that  John  Faust,  the  hero  of  the  Magus- 
legend,  has  nothing  in  common  with  John  Fust, 
the  printer  of  Mainz,  with  whom,  without  any 
historical  justification,  he  became  subsequently 
identified. 

During  the  latter  half  of  the  sixteenth  century  a 
variety  of  magical  incidents  gathered  round  the 
person  of  the  popular  favorite,  who  thus  became 
transformed  from  an  historical  to  a  legendary 
personage.  Among  many  examples,  the  follow- 
ing may  be  selected  as  having  special  interest 
with  reference  to  Goethe's  "  Faust."  In  a  work 
published  by  Lercheimer,  a  disciple  of  Melanc- 
thon, in  1585,  he  relates  that,  at  the  court  of 
Heidelberg,  a  wandering  and  unnamed  magician 
.ad  wrought  a  notable  miracle  ;  he  had  caused 
vines  to  spring  from  the  table,  and  had  com- 
manded the  guests  severally  to  apply  their  knives 


2l6  COMMENT  ON   THE 

to  the  stalk  of  a  grape-cluster,  but  not  to  cut  till 
he  should  give  the  order  ;  he  then  left  the  room  ; 
on  his  return  each  guest  held  under  his  knife, 
not  a  grape-cluster,  but  his  own  nose.  A  year 
later  this  story  is  related  of  Faust,  without  any 
indication  of  place.  Subsequently  it  is  amplified, 
and  is  transferred  to  a  festival  at  Erfurt.  The 
guests  regret  that  Faust,  who  is  then  at  Prague, 
is  not  among  them  ;  he  suddenly  appears,  trans- 
ported by  magic,  is  joyfully  welcomed  and  lib- 
erally entertained  ;  wishing  in  turn  to  treat  the 
company,  he  causes  holes  to  be  bored  in  the 
table,  from  which  flows  the  noblest  wine.  In 
one  of  the  oldest  Faust-books,  it  is  related  that 
Faust  had  ridden  out  of  the  cellar  on  a  wine- 
cask,  which,  till  then,  nobody  had  been  able  to 
move  ;  this  incident  was  localized  in  Auerbach's 
cellar  at  Leipzig,  where  the  picture  of  Faust's 
exit  upon  the  wine-cask,  bearing  the  date  1525, 
still  exists.  These  various  incidents,  assigned  by 
tradition  to  different  localities  —  Heidelberg,  Er- 
furt, Leipzig — Goethe  combines  into  one  scene, 
where  however  it  is  not  Faust,  but  Mephistoph- 
eles,  who  plays  the  part  of  conjuror.  The  old- 
est Faust-book,  of  which  many  versions  were 
subsequently  published,  appeared  in  Frankfort, 
1587  ;  it  contains  the  crude  materials  of  Goethe's 
' '  Faust ;"  and  is  impressed  with  the  various  feat- 
ures of  the  mediaeval  legend  ;  the  diabolic  and 
the  tragic,  the  grand  and  the  burlesque. 

The  hero,  a  peasant's  son,  comes  as  a  student 
to  Wittenberg,  where  he  surpasses  all  his  com- 
panions ;  he  yearns  for  forbidden  knowledge, 
buries  himself  in  magical  books,  and  places  the 
Scriptures  behind  the  door  ;  he  dislikes  the  title 
of  theologian  and  styles  himself  doctor  of  medi- 


TRA  GED  V  OF  FAUST.  2  I  7 

cine,  astrologer,  and  mathematician.  Notwith- 
standing its  horror  of  magic,  the  pious  popular 
book  betrays  also  genuine  admiration  for  the  in- 
tellectual ardor  of  the  Bible-contemning  youth  . 
"He  took  to  himself  eagle's  wings,  and  wished 
to  explore  all  grounds  in  heaven  and  upon  earth." 
Then  follows  his  compact  with  the  devil  :  "  In 
that  hour,"  says  the  old  Faust-book,  "the  godless 
man  fell  away  from  God,  and  this  fall  was  noth- 
ing more  than  his  own  pride,  despair,  and  temer- 
ity ;  it  was  with  him  as  with  the  giants  of  whom 
the  poets  relate  that  they  piled  mountain  upon 
mountain,  and  wished  to  make  war  against  God." 
This  allusion  to  the  Titans,  in  the  earliest  Faust- 
book,  offers  another  example  of  the  influence  ex- 
ercised by  the  Renaissance  over  the  intellectual 
life  of  the  period.  After  residing  eight  years  at 
Wittenberg,  Faust,  accompanied  by  Mephistoph- 
eles,  makes  the  great  tour,  in  the  course  of 
which  they  appear  in  Rome  and  Constantinople. 
At  a  students'  banquet  at  Wittenberg  he  invokes 
the  Grecian  Helena,  whom  he  marries,  and  who 
bears  him  a  son.  As  the  end  approaches  he  is 
seized  with  remorse,  and  is  overwhelmed  with 
agony  at  the  prospect  of  his  inevitable  doom. 
Mephistopheles,  meanwhile,  certain  of  his  prey, 
derides  his  horror-stricken  victim.  Faust  passes 
the  last  day  of  his  life  with  his  friends  in  a  village 
near  Wittenberg,  where,  amid  the  raging  of  the 
elements,  his  final  doom  is  consummated.  With 
his  death  Helena  and  her  son  disappear  from  the 
scene. 

In  the  year  1590  the  German  Faust-book  was 
translated  into  English,  and  almost  immediately 
afterward  appeared  the  "  Tragical  History  of 
Dr.  Faustus,"  by   Marlowe,  who,  in  accordance 


2l8 


COMMENT  ON    THE 


with  the  genius  of  the  age,  has  simply  dramatized 
the  popular  legend,  the  tragical  element  of 
which  is  brought  out  with  wonderful  power  in 
the  closing  scene.  At  a  somewhat  later  date 
another  version  of  the  story  was  introduced  upon 
the  Spanish  stage  by  Calderon  de  la  Barca. 

At  this  period  the  German  theatre  was  domi- 
nated by  a  degenerate  classical  taste  ;  French 
plays  were  preferred  to  those  of  native  growth, 
and  hence  "Faust,"  though  produced  upon  the 
German  stage,  did  not  hold  its  ground,  but  was 
degraded  to  a  puppet-show  play,  the  sight  of 
which,  in  his  childhood,  so  powerfully  affected 
the  imagination  of  Goethe.  The  ages,  it  has 
been  truly  said,  are  mirrored  in  their  legends. 
A  new  age  has  now  arrived,  an  age  of  spiritual 
new-birth  ;  it  looks  with  the  eyes  of  Lessing  into 
the  Faust-legend,  and  a  change  passes  over  the 
features  of  the  magician.  That  great  critic  op- 
posed the  prevailing  taste  for  the  artificial  pro- 
ductions of  the  French  school,  and  referred  his 
countrymen  to  the  grand  works  of  original  genius, 
more  especially  to  the  plays  of  Shakespeare.  He 
called  their  attention  also  to  the  native  dramas, 
which  had  been  banished  from  the  stage,  and 
declared,  with  reference  to  the  "  Faust"  drama, 
1 '  it  has  many  scenes  which  only  a  Shakespearian 
genius  could  have  conceived." 

Lessing  not  only  indicated  "  Faust"  as  a  grand 
subject  for  dramatic  treatment,  he  himself  laid 
his  hand  to  the  work,  which,  however,  he  never 
completed  ;  one  scene  of  his  drama  alone  re- 
mains. From  the  testimony  of  two  of  his 
friends,  Blankenburg  and  Engel,  we  obtain, 
however,  important  information  as  to  the  main 
idea  embodied  in  Lessing's  M  Faust." 


TRA GED Y  OF  FAUST.  2  1 9 

In  an  ancient  dome,  at  midnight,  the  devil  had 
assembled  the  spirits  of  hell  to  a  carnival,  at 
which  each  relates  his  individual  achievements  ; 
one  declares:  "I  have  done  nothing;  I  have 
only  conceived  a  thought  more  devilish  than  the 
deeds  of  the  others  ;  I  will  rob  God  of  his  favorite, 
a  youth  devoted  to  the  pursuit  of  truth,  and  for 
its  sake  renouncing  every  other  passion."  Sa- 
tan exults  in  anticipation  over  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  design.  Then  a  voice  proclaims 
from  on  high  :  "Ye  shall  not  prevail  !" 

These  words  indicate  a  new  epoch  in  the  de- 
velopment of  the  Faust-legend,  which  adapts  it- 
self, as  formerly  to  the  genius  of  the  16th,  so 
now  to  that  of  the  18th  century.  The  contempt 
for  antiquated  and  worn-out  forms,  the  craving 
for  originality,  the  passionate  thirst  for  higher 
knowledge,  which  characterized  the  new  epoch, 
found  their  counterpart  in  the  hero  of  the  pop- 
ular legend  :  "  He  took  to  himself  eagle's  wings, 
and  wished  to  explore  all  grounds  in  heaven  and 
upon  earth."  How  Lessing  would  have  carried 
out  his  conception  can  never  be  known  ;  so  far, 
however,  is  certain  :  Faust  is  to  be  saved  !  The 
triumph  of  hell  over  such  a  spirit  is  only  appar- 
ent ;  a  mind  thirsting  for  truth  is  no  prey  for 
Satan.  In  order  to  bring  the  magician  of  the 
popular  legend  into  harmony  with  the  spirit  of 
the  age,  the  great  magician  of  German  literature 
must  appear,  to  whom  it  was  given  to  fashion 
men  after  his  image.  When  Lessing  directed 
attention  to  Faust,  Goethe  was  in  his  tenth  year  ; 
a  decade  later,  and  the  time  approaches  when  the 
conception  of  Faust  will  begin  to  take  posses- 
sion of  his  soul. 

It  has  been  remarked  by   Mr.   Lewes,  "that 


2  20  COMMENT  ON  THE 

all  Goethe's  works  are  biographical  |  are  parts  of 
his  life,  and  expressions  of  the  various  experiences 
he  underwent,  and  the  various  stages  of  culture 
he  passed  through."*  This  is  eminently  true  of 
11  Faust,"  and  hence  it  may  be  desirable,  for  its 
elucidation,  to  give  a  brief  sketch  of  the  poet's 
life. 

The  trite  aphorism  that  ' '  the  child  is  the  father 
of  the  man"  has  never  perhaps  had  a  more  strik- 
ing illustration  that  in  Goethe  ;  and  as  in  Faust 
we  have  an  idealized  portrait  of  the  great  poet,  a 
cursory  allusion  to  a  few  characteristics  of  his 
childhood  may  form  a  fitting  prelude  to  the  con- 
sideration of  the  poem. 

Many  of  the  most  striking  and  apparently  op- 
posite tendencies  of  Goethe's  nature,  subsequently 
impersonated  in  the  creations  of  his  genius,  mani- 
fested themselves  almost  in  his  infancy.  Thus 
his  innate  love  of  the  beautiful  and  disgust  at 
its  opposite  displayed  itself  in  his  third  year, 
when  he  was  moved  to  tears  by  the  sight  of  an 
ugly  child.  He  tells  us  how,  when  a  boy,  he 
flew  past  the  meat-stalls  in  perfect  horror,  while 
it  was  his  special  delight  to  promenade  on  the 
great  bridge  over  the  Main,  where  the  beautiful 
river  above  and  below  the  bridge  attracted  his  eye, 
and  the  gilt  weather-cock  on  the  bridge-cross 
glittered  in  the  sunshine. 

To  the  student  of  Faust,  who  remembers  the 
magnificent  description  of  the  sunset,  in  the  first 
part,  it  is  interesting  to  read  of  the  boy's  experi- 
ence in  the  so-called  garden-room,  commanding 
a  pleasant  prospect  over  an  almost  immeasurable 


*  See  also   Goethe's    Autobiography    (Dichtung   unci 
Wahrheit),  vol.  i.  p.  240.    (Bohn's  ed.) 


TRA  GED  Y  OF  FA  US  T.  2  2  1 

extent  of  neighbors'  gardens.  4  •  There,  *■  he  says, 
14 1  commonly  learned  my  lessons,  and  watched 
the  thunder-storms,  and  could  never  look  my  fill  at 
the  setting  sun,  which  went  down  directly  op- 
posite my  window." 

His  dramatic  proclivities,  together  with  his  mar- 
vellous creative  faculty,  also  manifested  them- 
selves in  early  childhood.  Never  to  be  forgotten 
was  the  last  Christmas  gift  of  his  grandmother,  a 
puppet  theatre,  "whereby  an  imagined  world  of 
enchantment  was  opened  to  the  four-year-old 
child  ;"  he  himself  tells  us  how  "  the  marionette 
fable  of  Faust  murmured  with  many  voices  in 
his  soul."  We  also  learn  from  his  autobiography 
how,  when  weary  of  the  original  drama  to  which 
the  puppets  had  been  specially  adapted,  other 
pieces  were  attempted  with  changed  dresses  and 
decorations  ;  and  how,  when  he  and  his  compan- 
ions had  outgrown  the  puppets,  his  fancy  and 
technical  skill  were  exercised  in  making  arrange- 
ments for  the  plays  and  tragedies  in  which  they 
were  themselves  the  performers.  His  precocious 
power  of  story-telling  was  also  exercised  for  the 
delight  of  his  companions,  and  the  specimen 
which  he  gives  of  these  boyish  productions,  in 
"  The  New  Paris,"  exhibits  the  same  blending  of 
the  real  and  the  ideal  which  characterized  his 
mature  creations,  and  shows  us  how,  ' '  in  accord- 
ance with  the  instincts  of  his  nature,  he  learned 
to  work  up  his  visions  and  conceits  into  artistic 
forms." 

In  his  sixth  year  his  peace  of  mind  was  deeply 
disturbed  by  tidings  of  the  Lisbon  earthquake  ; 
God  the  Creator  and  Preserver  of  heaven  and 
earth,  in  thus  consigning  the  just  and  the  unjust 
to  the  same  destruction,  had  not  manifested  Him- 


222  COMMENT  UN   THE 

self,  by  any  means,  in  a  fatherly  character.  In 
vain  the  young  mind  strove  to  resist  these  im- 
pressions ;  he  began  to  settle  into  a  serious  dis«- 
belief  in  the  benignity  of  Providence.  Gradually 
his  doubts  subsided  ;  he  listened  in  the  family 
circle  to  discussions  respecting  the  different  re- 
ligious sects,  all  of  whom  were  animated  by  the 
same  purpose  of  approaching  the  Deity,  especi- 
ally through  Christ,  more  closely  than  seemecj 
possible  under  the  forms  of  the  established  relig- 
ion. He  came  to  the  thought  that  he  also  might 
immediately  approach  the  great  God  of  Nature, 
whose  earlier  manifestations  of  wrath  had  been 
long  forgotten  in  the  beauty  of  the  world.  The  boy 
could  ascribe  no  form  to  the  Deity  ;  he  therefore 
sought  him  in  his  works,  and  resolved,  in  the 
good  Old  Testament  fashion,  to  build  him  an 
altar.  Natural  productions  were  set  forth  as 
images  of  the  world,  over  which  a  flame  was  to 
burn,  typifying  the  aspirations  of  man's  heart 
toward  his  Maker.  Ores  and  other  natural  pro- 
ductions were  arranged  on  a  music-stand,  in  the 
form  of  a  four-sided  pyramid  ;  a  fumigating 
pastille  was  placed  on  the  apex  ;  the  sun  glittered 
above  the  roofs,  aburning  glass  was  applied,  "  and 
thus  was  the  worship  consummated  by  a  priest  of 
seven  years  old,  alone  in  his  chamber."  We 
see  here,  in  embryo,  as  it  were,  in  the  child's 
mind,  the  curious  dualism  which  characterized 
the  poet,  and  which  found  its  most  typical  ex- 
pression in  his  great  master-work,  ' '  Faust. "  The 
reasoning,  doubting,  denying  intellect  finds  there 
impersonation,  as  well  as  the  heaven-aspiring 
soul.  The  tendency  to  symbolic  mysticism, 
moreover,  which  has  found  such  beautiful  expres- 
sion in  the  concluding  scene  of  the  second   part 


TRAGEDY  OF  FAUST.  22  7, 

of  "  Faust,"  thus  manifested  itself  in  the  worship 
of  the  seven-year-old  child. 

Faust's  passionate  thirst  for  knowledge,  which 
sought  gratification  in  all  directions,  and  strove 
to  unveil  the  hidden  mysteries  of  nature,  had  also 
its  prototype  in  the  juvenile  Goethe.  For  an 
account  of  the  various  modes  in  which  he  sought 
to  gratify,  what  he  has  himself  styled  his  vora- 
cious appetite  for  knowledge  the  reader  is  referred 
to  the  earlier  pages  of  his  autobiography.  One 
example  of  this  many-sided  curiosity  must  suffice  : 
an  armed  loadstone,  sewed  up  in  scarlet  cloth, 
was,  he  tells  us,  destined  one  day  to  experience 
the  effects  of  his  spirit  of  investigation.  The 
secret  attractive  force  exercised  by  the  instru- 
ment excited  his  wonder  and  admiration  ;  desir- 
ing to  arrive  at  some  revelation  of  the  mystery, 
he  tore  away  the  external  covering  ;  '  *  the  parts 
were  scattered,  and  I  lost,"  he  says,  "  the  won- 
drous phenomenon  at  the  same  time  with  the  ap- 
paratus." 

His  susceptibility  to  the  tender  passion,  which 
formed  so  striking  a  characteristic  of  his  nature, 
and  which  so  powerfully  influenced  his  subsequent 
career,  manifested  itself  even  in  his  boyhood.  He 
tells  us  how,  before  his  fifteenth  year,  he  experienc- 
ed for  the  first  time  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  love. 
The  story  of  his  intercourse  with  Gretchen,  whose 
name  he  has  immortalized  in  "  Faust,"  is  circum- 
stantially related  in  his  autobiography  ;  the  men- 
tal anguish,  together  with  the  physical  prostration 
which  followed  the  destruction  of  his  romance, 
bear  witness  to  the  intensity  of  his  feelings  ;  I 
have  no  doubt  that  here,  as  in  many  subsequent 
episodes  of  his  life,  he  has  embodied  some  pas- 
sages of  his  own  experience  in   "  Faust,"  where 


2  24  COMMENT  ON  THE 

situations  and  images  appear  which  remind  us  of 
his  intercourse  with  Gretchen. 

#Thus  he  tells  us  how  her  form,  from  the  mo- 
ment in  which  he  first  beheld  her,  followed  him 
in  every  path  ;  as  he  could  find  no  pretext  to  see 
her  at  home,  he  went  to  church  for  love  of  her, 
and  there  gazed  his  fill.  "  When  the  congrega- 
tion left  the  church,"  he  adds,  "  I  did  not  vent- 
ure to  accost  her,  much  less  to  accompany  her, 
and  was  perfectly  delighted  if  she  seemed  to  have 
returned  my  greeting  with  a  nod."  Surely  we 
have  here  the  germ  of  the  scene  in  which  Gret- 
chen, on  leaving  the  cathedral,  is  unceremoni- 
ously accosted  by  Faust.  Moreover  when,  at 
length,  Goethe  visits  Gretchen's  home,  she  sits 
at  the  window  spinning  ;  and  the  relation  which 
subsequently  sprang  up  between  them  —  the 
maiden  anxious  to  learn,  and  the  youth  inclined 
to  teach — suggests  what  appears  to  him  the  most 
beautiful  union  between  two  human  beings, 
when  the  maiden  looks  up  to  her  lover  as  the  cre- 
ator of  her  spiritual  existence  ;  which  is  precisely 
Gretchen's  attitude  toward  Faust. 

1 '  At  length  the  arrow,  with  its  barbed  hooks, 
was  torn  out  of  his  heart,  and  the  question  then 
was  how  the  inward  sanative  power  of  youth  could 
be  brought  to  his  aid."  He  fled  to  the  woods, 
and  in  the  remotest  depth  of  the  forest  sought  out 
a  solemn  spot,  where  the  noblest  oaks  and  beeches 
formed  a  large,  noble,  shaded  space.  Here  he 
gradually  experienced  the  healing  ministrations 
of  nature  ;  and  when  the  undefined  feelings 
awakened  by  his  sacred  grove  could  no  longer 
satisfy  him,  he  found  relief  in  his  artistic  procliv- 
ities, and  copied  from  nature  the  various  objects 
by  which  he  was  surrounded. 


TRA GEDY  OF  FAUST.  2  2$ 

The  wonderful  susceptibility  to  the  influences 
of  nature,  revealed  in  this  experience  of  boyhood, 
formed  one  of  the  most  striking  characteristics  of 
the  man,  and  has  also  found  expression  in  his 
great  master-work.  After  the  heart-rending- 
emotions  experienced  by  Faust  in  the  prison-scene 
with  Gretchen,  at  the  end  of  the  first  part,  he  re- 
appears in  the  opening  scene  of  the  second  part 
with  his  lacerated  spirits  healed  and  harmonized 
by  the  soothing  influences  of  nature,  typified  by 
Ariel  and  his  elfin  choir ;  and  in  the  artistic 
realization  of  ideal  beauty,  he  finds  a  worthy  ob- 
ject for  his  renovated  powers. 

Having  thus  followed  our  poet  through  his 
childhood  and  boyhood,  and  having  noticed  some 
characteristics  and  experiences  in  their  relation  to 
"Faust,"  we  must  now  follow  him  to  Leipzig, 
whither  he  repaired,  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  to 
enter  upon  his  college  life. 

At  that  time  the  influence  of  a  degenerate 
French  taste,  against  which  Lessing  had  already 
uplifted  his  powerful  voice,  completely  dominated 
the  social  and  intellectual  life  of  Leipzig.  Gott- 
sched,  the  pedantic  upholder  of  French  culture, 
characterized  by  Goethe  as  a  respectable  old 
grandfather,  held  a  prominent  position  at  the 
university ;  while  the  monotonous  system  of 
routine  which  there  prevailed  is  described  by 
Herman  Grimm  as  a  continuous  vegetation  hedged 
round  by  reverence. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  Goethe's  earliest  literary 
productions  should  bear  the  stamp  of  his  uncon- 
genial environment  ;  his  poetical  career  was  in- 
augurated by  a  series  of  songs,  in  the  prevailing 
French  style,  composed  for  music,  and  by  the 
composition  of  his  earliest  extant  drama,  '  j  Die 


2  26  COMMENT  ON   THE 

Laune  des  Verliebten"  (translated  under  the  title 
of  "The  Wayward  Lover").  This  drama  was 
founded  upon  his  relation  with  Anna  Kathrina 
Schonkopf ,  the  attractive  daughter  of  his  host  and 
hostess,  whose  affections,  according-  to  his  own 
account,  he  won  and  afterward  forfeited  by  his 
own  foolish  jealousy  and  caprice.  A  second 
drama,  "  Die  Mitschuldigen"  ("  The  Fellow-Cul- 
prits"), was  also  sketched  at  this  period  ;  the  ex- 
periences embodied  in  these  two  pieces  furnish, 
however,  no  elements  for  "  Faust  ;"  the  feature 
of  his  Leipzig  residence  which  has  there  stamped 
itself  with  the  greatest  prominence  is  the  dissatis- 
faction awakened  by  the  college  lectures  on  phi- 
losophy, logic,  and  jurisprudence. 

11  At  first,"  he  tells  us,  "I  attended  my  lectures 
assiduously  and  faithfully  ;  but  the  philosophy 
would  by  no  means  enlighten  me.  In  the  logic, 
it  seemed  strange  to  me  that  I  had  so  to  tear  asun- 
der, isolate,  and,  as  it  were,  destroy  those  opera- 
tions of  the  mind  which  I  had  performed  with  the 
greatest  ease  from  my  youth  upward,  and  this  in 
order  to  see  into  the  right  use  of  them.  Of  the 
world,  and  of  God,  I  thought  I  knew  about  as 
much  as  the  Professor  himself.  ...  It  was  soon 
quite  as  bad  with  the  law  lectures  ;  for  I  already 
knew  just  as  much  as  the  Professor  thought  good 
to  communicate  to  us.  My  stubborn  industry  in 
writing  down  the  lectures  at  first  was  paralyzed 
by  degrees,  for  I  found  it  excessively  tedious  to 
pen  down  once  more  that  which  I  had  repeated 
often  enough  to  retain  it  forever  in  my  memory." 
We  have  here  the  experience  which  subsequently 
embodied  itself  in  the  celebrated  scene  between 
Mephistopheles  and  the  Student. 

To  this  period  must  also  be  referred  some  ele- 


TRA GED Y  OF  FAUST.  227 

ments  in  the  portraiture  of  Faust  himself.  Goethe 
has  informed  us  how,  in  preparing  for  his  first 
communion,  his  religious  aspirations  had  been 
paralyzed  by  the  dry,  spiritless  routine  to  which 
he  was  subjected.  "I  received  absolution,"  he 
says,  "  and  withdrew  neither  warm  nor  cold  ;  and 
the  next  day  accompanied  my  parents  to  the 
Table  of  the  Lord."  He  then  describes  the  power- 
ful impression  produced  upon  his  imagination  by 
the  text,  that  one  who  unworthily  partakes  of  the 
Sacrament,  eateth  and  drinketh  damnation  to 
himself.  Every  fearful  thing  which  he  had  read 
in  the  histories  of  the  middle  ages,  and  even  in 
the  Bible  itself,  about  the  judgments  of  God, 
formed  itself  into  the  most  frightful  combina- 
tions, and  produced  a  painful  hypochondriacal 
condition,  which  accompanied  him  to  Leipzig. 
There,  however,  he  became  ashamed  of  his 
doubts,  and  at  last,  he  says,  "  I  completely  left 
behind  me  this  strange  anguish  of  conscience, 
together  with  church  and  altar."  "And  thus, 
by  degrees,  the  epoch  approached  when  all 
authority  was  to  vanish  from  before  me,  and  I 
was  to  become  suspicious — nay,  to  despair  even, 
of  the  greatest  and  best  individuals  whom  I  had 
known  or  imagined."  This  fragment  of  his  great 
confession  finds  an  echo  in  some  passages  of 
"  Faust." 

We  must  not  bid  farewell  to  his  Leipzig  experi- 
ences without  adverting  to  his  art  studies,  which 
he  there  carried  on  with  zeal  and  enthusiasm. 
He  became  the  pupil  of  Oeser,  the  director 
of  the  Drawing  Academy,  who  taught  him  that 
"  The  Ideal  of  Beauty  is  simplicity  and  repose." 
He  studied  the  writings  of  Winckelmann  and  the 
"  Laocoon"  of  Lessing.    Alluding  to  the  distinc- 


228 


COMMENT  ON   THE 


tion  there  pointed  out  between  plastic  and  speak- 
ing- art  (Bildende  und  Redende  ICunst),  he  says  : 
"All  the  consequences  of  this  splendid  thought 
were  illumined  to  us  as  by  a  lightning-  flash." 
There  was  awakened  within  him  an  intense  desire 
to  visit  the  picture-gallery  at  Dresden  ;  thither  he 
repaired,  and  on  entering  the  sanctuary,  his  aston- 
ishment surpassed  every  expectation  he  had 
formed.  He  had  likewise  the  opportunity  at 
Leipzig  of  examining  many  valuable  art  collec- 
tions ;  M  and  so  the  university,"  he  says,  "where 
I  neglected  the  ends  both  of  my  family  and  my- 
self, was  to  ground  me  in  that  in  which  I  after- 
ward found  the  greatest  satisfaction  of  my  life." 

Owing  to  a  variety  of  causes  his  health  gave 
way,  and  one  summer  night  (1768)  he  awoke  with 
a  violent  haemorrhage.  Medical  assistance  was 
called  in  ;  for  many  days  he  wavered  between  life 
and  death,  "  and  even  the  joy  of  convalescence 
was  embittered  by  the  discovery  of  a  tumor 
which  formed  in  the  left  side  of  his  neck,  and 
which  troubled  him  for  a  considerable  time." 
Thus  with  shattered  health  he  left  Leipzig  in  Sep- 
tember, 1768,  and  returned  to  his  native  city. 
Among  the  remembrances  which  he  carried  with 
him  from  Leipzig,  that  of  Auerbach's  cellar,  with 
its  celebrated  Faust-picture,  must  not  be  for- 
gotten. 

The  domestic  circumstances  attending  his  re- 
turn, his  father's  coldness,  and  impatience  at  the 
slowness  of  his  recovery,  together  with  the  de- 
voted affection  of  his  sister,  are  mentioned  in  the 
autobiography.  Of  more  interest,  however,  as 
bearing  upon  "Faust,"  was  his  intimacy  with 
Susanna  Katharina  von  Klettenberg,  the  central 
figure  among  his  mother's  pious  friends,  a  woman 


TRA GED Y  OF  FAUST.  229 

in  whom  religious  enthusiasm  and  high  culture 
were  associated  with  distinguished  rank  and 
charm  of  demeanor,  and  from  whose  letters  and 
conversations  arose  "the  confessions  of  a  beauti- 
ful soul,"  which  appeared  in  "  Wilhelm  Meister." 
The  religious  mysticism  to  which  he  was  thus  in- 
troduced was  closely  allied  to  alchemy,  to  the 
study  of  which  he  was  at  this  time  led  to  devote 
himself.  The  family  physician,  who  belonged  to 
the  Pious  Separatists,  was  addicted  to  alchemy, 
and  hinted  at  the  possession  of  an  universal  med- 
icine of  magical  virtue,  which  was  only  to  be  ad- 
ministered in  cases  of  extreme  danger.  To  ex- 
cite belief  in  the  possibility  of  such  a  remedy, 
he  recommended  to  his  patients  certain  chemico- 
alchemical  books,  intimating  that  an  acquaintance 
with  the  hidden  resources  of  nature  was  necessary 
in  order  to  produce  this  valuable  panacea. 
Fraulein  von  Klettenberg  had  listened  to  these 
enticing  words.  She  had  secretly  studied 
Welling's  "  OpusMago-Cabalisticum,"  and  small 
excitement,  the  poet  tells  us,  was  needed  to  inoc- 
ulate him  also  with  this  disease.  The  works  of 
Theophrastus,  Paracelsus,  and  Basilius  Valenti- 
nus,  together  with  those  of  Helmont,  Starkey, 
and  other  alchemists,  were  studied,  and  thus  were 
spent  the  evenings  of  a  long  winter,  during  which 
he  was  compelled  to  keep  his  chamber.  A  crisis 
in  his  malady  having  arisen,  the  mysterious 
remedy,  a  crystallized  salt  dissolved  in  water,  was 
administered,  and  from  that  moment  the  disease 
took  a  favorable  turn.  His  faith  in  the  physician 
was  thus  enhanced,  and  he  was  stimulated  to  re- 
newed industry  in  his  alchemic  investigations. 
In  his  little  attic  he  provided  himself  with  glasses, 
retorts,  and  other  necessary  apparatus,  where  the 


23°  COMMENT  ON   THE 

strange  ingredients  of  the  macrocosm  and  micro- 
cosm were  handled  in  a  mysterious  manner,  and 
where  he  busied  himself  especially  in  preparing 
the  so-called  Liquor  Silicum.  Thus  without  ref- 
erence to  the  composition  of  V  Faust,"  he  famil- 
iarized himself  with  the  arts  and  the  nomenclature 
employed  by  the  mediaeval  necromancers,  whose 
writings,  he  tells  us,  could  trace  their  pedigree  in 
U  direct  line  up  to  the  Neo-Platonic  philosophy. 
In  the  light  of  that  philosophy  nature  was  regard- 
ed not  as  the  object  of  methodical  study,  but  as  a 
mystery,  as  a  volume  closed  to  earthly  senses,  for 
the  interpretation  of  which  a  key  was  required  as 
mysterious  as  the  volume  itself  ;  he  who  could  un- 
veil these  mysterious  powers  and  make  them  avail- 
able was  a  master  over  the  spirits,  a  magician. 
This  magic  was  an  object  of  belief  in  the  middle 
ages,  and  finds  expression  in  the  words  of  Faust  : 

Unlock'd  the  spirit  world  doth  lie  ; 

Thy  sense  is  shut,  thy  heart  is  dead  ! 
Up,  scholar,  lave,  with  courage  high, 

Thine  earthly  breast  in  the  morning-red'. 

Goethe  tells  us  that  while  studying  the  works 
of  the  alchemists  he  was  particularly  pleased  with 
"the  'Aurea  Catena  Homeri,' in  which  nature, 
though  perhaps  in  fantastical  fashion,  is  repre- 
sented in  a  beautiful  combination."  This  con- 
ception of  the  universe  could  not  find  more  ade- 
quate expression  than  in  the  words  of  Faust,  when 
in  one  of  the  magical  cabalistic  books  he  contem- 
plates the  sign  of  the  universe  : 

How  all  things  live  and  work,  and,  ever  blending, 

Weave  one  vast  whole  from  being's  ample  range  ! 
How  powers  celestial,  rising  and  descending, 

Their  golden  buckets  ceaseless  interchange  ! 
Their  flight  on  rapture-breathing  pinions  winging, 
From  heaven  to  earth  their  genial  influence  bringing, 
Through  the  wide  sphere  their  chimes  meloditus  ringing. 


TRAGEDY  OB  FAUST.  23 1 

The  religious  mysticism  to  which  Goethe  was 
introduced  by  Fraulein  von  Klettenberg  has,  like 
magic,  its  root  in  the  Neo-Platonic  philosophy. 
Nowhere  could  the  divine  life,  operative  in  ex- 
ternal nature,  be  grasped  so  immediately  as  in  the 
depths  of  the  human  soul  ;  here  also  is  chemistry 
needed  to  purify  the  gold  of  the  spirit  from  the 
dross  of  lower  desires  and  passions. 

Both  forms  of  theosophy  sought  to  discover  the 
soul's  way  to  God  ;  magic,  through  external  nat- 
ure ;  mysticism,  through  the  human  soul.  The 
first  course  was  pursued  by  Paracelsus,  the  sec- 
ond by  Jacob  Bohm.  This  magic  and  this  mysti- 
cism find  expression  in  the  beginning  and  the  end 
of  "  Faust."  In  the  opening  scene  the  magician, 
after  standing  enraptured  before  the  vision  of  the 
universe,  exclaims  in  despair  : 

A  wondrous  show  !  but  ah  !  a  show  alone  ! 
Where  shall  I  grasp  thee,  infinite  nature,  where  ? 

The  Mystical  Chorus  at  the  end  of  the  poem 
solves  the  riddle  ;  in  the  divine  love,  symbolically 
represented  in  the  Mater  Gloriosa,  he  contem- 
plates the  unveiled  secret  of  the  universe  : 

All  of  mere  transient  date 

As  symbol  showeth  ; 
Here  the  inadequate 

To  fulness  groweth  ; 
Here  the  ineffable 

Wrought  is  in  love  ; 
The  ever-womanly 

Draws  us  above. 

The  period  was  now  approaching  when  the 
genius  of  the  great  poet  was  to  reach  its  full 
development.  As  his  health  and  youthful  spirits 
were  restored,  he  gladly  acceded  to  his  father's 
intention  of  sending  him  to  Strasburg,  there  to 


232  COMMENT  ON   THE 

prosecute  his  studies,  and  eventually  to  take  his 
degree. 

He  arrived  there  April  2d,  1770,  and  on  alight- 
ing from  the  diligence  repaired  immediately  to 
the  minster.  u  Many  thousands  since  then  have 
ascended  to  the  platform  of  the  tower,  and  read 
Goethe's  name,  which  is  there  inscribed,  and  like 
him  have  gazed  from  the  summit  upon  the  beau- 
tiful region  in  which  he  was  about  to  take  up  his 
abode." 

Deeply  significant  was  the  brief  period  of  his 
sojourn  in  Strasburg  ;  the  French  language,  to 
which  he  had  addicted  himself  from  his  youth, 
was  abandoned,  and  he  turned  with  earnestness 
to  his  mother  tongue  ;  his  multifarious  studies, 
scientific,  literary,  mystical,  and  cabalistic,  were 
pursued  with  incredible  ardor ;  the  development 
of  his  own  originality  awakened  his  sympathy 
with  whatever  was  original  and  characteristic  in 
every  department  of  human  effort ;  at  no  period 
of  his  life  could  he  have  been  more  susceptible  to 
the  influence  of  Herder,  who  arrived  in  Strasburg 
in  the  winter  of  1770.  Goethe  was  then  one-and- 
twenty  years  of  age  ;  there  was  a  ferment  within 
him  ;  he  needed  a  master  ;  one  who  should  help 
him  to  find  out  his  true  life-career.  In  approach- 
ing Herder  he,  for  the  first  time,  came  in  con- 
tact with  a  really  great  man,  to  whom  he  could 
look  up  as  his  superior  in  culture  and  attainment. 

Herder's  mind  has  been  compared  to  a  mirror, 
In  whose  depths  was  reflected  the  entire  history 
of  humanity.  Under  his  influence  Goethe  recog- 
nized that  poetry  is  a  gift  to  the  world  and  to  na- 
tions, not  the  private  inheritance  of  a  few  refined 
and  cultivated  men.  A  new  world  was  thus 
opened  to  him ;  the  poetry  of  the  East,  the  Old  Tes- 


TRA GED Y  OF  FAUST.  233 

tament,  national  songs,  Homer,  Ossian,  Shake- 
speare ;  the  full  power  of  the  great  English  drama- 
tist especially  was  now  experienced  by  him  for 
the  first  time.  "  The  first  page,"  to  quote  a  lect- 
ure delivered  by  him  at  this  period,  "made  me 
his  for  life  ;  and  when  I  had  perused  an  entire 
play,  I  stood  like  one  born  blind,  to  whom  sight, 
by  some  miraculous  power,  had  been  restored  in 
a  moment."  His  own  creative  energies  were 
stirring  within  him.  "  Two  subjects,"  he  says, 
"  had  rooted  themselves  within  me,  and  were,  lit- 
tle by  little,  moulding  themselves  into  poetic  form. 
These  were  Gotz  von  Berlichingen  and  Faust. 
The  biography  of  the  former  had  seized  my  in- 
most heart.  The  figure  of  a  rude,  well-mean- 
ing self-helper,  in  a  wild  anarchical  time,  awak- 
ened my  deepest  sympathy.  The  significant 
puppet-show  fable  of  the  latter  resounded  and 
vibrated  many-toned  within  me.  I,  too,  had  wan- 
dered into  every  department  of  knowledge,  and 
*iad  early  enough  been  led  to  see  its  vanity.  Real 
•ife,  too,  I  had  tried  under  various  aspects,  and 
»iad  always  returned  more  unsatisfied  and  troub- 
led." Here,  if  anywhere,  as  Mr.  Lewes  says,  we 
have  the  key  to  Faust.  ' '  Three  forms  rise  up 
from  out  the  many  influences  of  Strasburg  into 
distinct  and  memorable  importance  :  Frederika, 
Herder,  the  Cathedral.  An  exquisite  woman,  a 
noble  thinker,  and  a  splendid  monument,  led  him 
into  the  regions  of  Passion,  Poetry,  and  Art."* 

For  the  charming  Sesenheim  Idyl,  the  reader 
is  referred  to  the  pages  of  the  autobiography  ;  the 
portrait  of  Frederika,  there  sketched  with  such 
masterful  and  loving  care,  is  declared  by  Her- 

*  Lewes'  u  Life  of  Goethe.1' 


2  34  COMMENT  ON   THE 

man  Grimm  to  be,  not  a  transcript  from  nature, 
but  rather  a  portrait  of  an  ideal  being,  suggested 
to  the  poet's  imagination  by  the  remembered  im- 
age of  his  beloved  one.  Who,  in  such  a  case, 
can  separate  poetry  and  truth  ?  Suffice  it  to  say 
that  tender  feeling  and  glowing  passion  breathe 
through  the  verses  which  she  inspired,  which  have 
been  collected  into  a  volume  entitled  "  The  Little 
Sesenheim  Song-book."  We  must  not  linger 
amid  the  groves  and  gardens  of  Sesenheim,  or 
follow  through  its  varied  episodes  the  growth  and 
development  of  their  natural  affection,  but  pass 
at  once  to  the  concluding  scene.  As  the  time  ap- 
proached for  his  departure  from  Strasburg,  they 
both  felt  that  their  romance  was  drawing  to  a 
close.  Amid  the  pressure  of  engagements  which 
occupied  the  last  days  of  his  sojourn  there,  "I 
could  not,"  he  says,  "fail  to  see  Frederika  once 
more.  Those  were  painful  days,  the  memory  of 
which  has  not  remained  with  me."  He  went  to 
bid  her  farewell.  "  When  I  held  out  my  hand  to 
her  from  my  horse,"  he  says,  "the  tears  were  in 
her  eyes,  and  I  felt  sad  at  heart."  On  his  return 
to  Frankfort  he  wrote  to  her.  "  Frederika' s  an- 
swer to  the  letter  in  which  I  had  bidden  her 
adieu,"  so  we  read  in  the  autobiography,  "tore 
my  heart.  I  now,  for  the  first  time,  became 
aware  of  her  bereavement,  and  saw  no  possibility 
of  alleviating  it.  She  was  completely  present  to 
me  ;  I  felt  that  she  was  wanting  to  me  ;  and,  what 
was  worst  of  all,  I  could  not  forgive  myself  for 
my  own  misfortune.  Gretchen  had  been  taken 
away  from  me  ;  Aennchen  had  left  me  ;  now,  for 
the  first  time,  I  was  guilty.  I  had  wounded  the 
most  beautiful  heart  to  its  very  depths  ;  and  the 
period  of  a  gloomy  repentance   with  the  absence 


TRA  GED  Y  OF  FA  UST.  235 

of  a  refreshing  love,  to  which  I  had  grown  accus- 
tomed, was  most  agonizing,  nay,  unsupportable." 
I  quote  this  passage  because  it  appears  to  me  to 
have  a  direct  relation  to  the  Gretchen  episode  in 
Faust.  On  the  17th  of  March,  1832,  five  days 
before  his  death,  Goethe  addressed  a  letter  to 
Wilhelm  von  Humboldt,  in  which  he  says,  ' '  More 
than  sixty  years  ago  the  conception  of  '  Faust '  lay 
clearly  before  my  youthful  mind."  We  are  thus 
carried  back  to  the  year  1772,  when  he  had  just 
returned  from  Strasburg  to  Frankfort.  He  tells 
us,  in  his  autobiography,  that  he  had  contracted  a 
practice  from  which  he  could  not  deviate  his  whole 
life  through,  of  converting  everything  that  glad- 
dened or  troubled,  or  otherwise  occupied  him, 
into  a  poem  ;  hence,  all  his  poems  are  only  frag- 
ments of  a  great  confession.  We  have  seen  how 
the  images  of  Gretchen  and  Frederika  at  this  pe- 
riod haunted  his  imagination,  and  we  can,  I  think, 
trace  the  influence  of  both  in  the  heroine  of  Faust. 
The  name,  and  some  of  the  situations  may  have 
been  suggested  by  his  earlier  experience,  while 
the  image  of  Frederika,  the  remorse  awakened 
by  his  desertion  of  her,  together  with  the  vivid 
realization  of  her  grief,  which  brought  her  to  the 
brink  of  the  grave,  would  stimulate  his  imagina- 
tion, and  embody  themselves  in  that  wonderful 
creation,  which,  in  association  with  Faust,  takes 
rank  among  the  undying  master-works  of  genius. 
Antigone,  Iphigenia,  Ophelia,  Imogen,  must,  in 
regard  to  inner  life-power,  yield  the  preference 
to  Gretchen.  Though  English  readers  may  not 
feel  disposed  to  subscribe  to  this  opinion  of  Her- 
man Grimm,  we  must  all  acknowledge  that  the 
anguish  of  bereavement  has  nowhere  found  more 
pathetic  expression  than  in  Gretchen's  song  at 


236  COMMENT  ON  THE 

her  spinning-wheel.  The  terrible  scene  in  the 
cathedral,  with  which  the  first  published  fragment 
concludes,  reminds  us  of  the  profound  impression 
produced  upon  his  mind  by  the  contemplation  of 
the  minster.  He  studied  it  so  long  and  so  affec- 
tionately that  the  structure  of  the  venerable  pile 
became  clear  to  him,  not  only  as  a.  whole,  but  also 
in  the  individual  parts.  In  spirit  he  saw  four 
higher  spires  ascending  above  the  volutes  of  the 
tower,  with  a  higher  one  in  the  centre,  where  the 
clumsy  cross  now  stands.  To  the  astonished 
question  of  the  official  placed  over  the  public 
edifices  :  "  Who  had  told  him  so  ?"  he  replied, 
"The  tower  itself;"  and  added,  "I  have  ob- 
served it  so  long  and  so  attentively  and  have 
shown  it  so  much  affection,  that  it  at  last  resolved 
to  make  me  this  open  confession."  "  It  has  not 
misinformed  you,"  replied  the  official ;  "we  still 
have  among  our  archives  the  original  sketches, 
which  say  the  same  thing,  and  which  I  can  show 
you."  We  can  well  understand,  after  reading 
the  above,  how,  in  connection  with  his  studies 
for  Gotz  von  Berlichingen  and  Faust,  the  minster 
could,  as  he  tells  us,  stand  as  a  background  to 
such  poetical  conceptions. 

It  is  impossible  to  think  of  Faust  without  at  the 
same  time  calling  up  the  image  of  Mephistopheles, 
and  it  is  interesting  to  consider  the  sources  from 
which  Goethe  drew  this  wonderful  conception. 

Like  most  of  the  creations  of  his  genius,  it 
doubtless  embodies  one  side  of  his  own  nature  ; 
and  thus,  in  Faust  and  Mephistopheles,  we  have 
the  crowning  example  of  that  dualism  in  the  poet's 
mind  which  has  found  expression  also  in  Antonio 
and  Tasso,  in  Edward  and  the  Captain,  and  in 
Jarno  and  Wilhelm.     Nevertheless,  we  must  look 


TEA GED Y  OF  FAUST,  237 

abroad  for  various  distinctive  features  which  char- 
acterize Mephistopheles,  and  most  commentators, 
following  the  poet's  own  suggestion,  have  regard- 
ed Johann  Heinrich  Merck  as  the  germ  of  the  char- 
acter. There  is,  however,  probability  in  the  hy- 
pothesis of  H.  Grimm,  that  Herder  has  also  sup- 
plied some  elements  for  this  memorable  figure  ; 
and  if  so,  we  have  here  another  example  of  the 
manner  in  which  Goethe  occasionally,  in  his  poetic 
creations,  fused  two  distinct  individualities  into 
one. 

The  supercilious  tone  which  Herder  invariably 
assumed  toward  Goethe,  together  with  his  bitter, 
biting,  contradictory  humor,  which  he  was  at  no 
trouble  to  control,  aroused  a  feeling  of  discontent 
in  Goethe,  which  was  continually  at  strife  with 
the  reverence  awakened  by  his  vast  knowledge, 
which  opened  to  the  younger  poet  wide  views  of 
things  of  which  he  had  never  before  dreamed. 
Herder,  we  are  told,  poured  forth  his  ideas  with 
the  richest  prodigality  ;  no  one,  however,  who  re- 
ceived his  precious  gifts  was  spared  the  sarcastic 
bitterness  with  which  they  were  accompanied. 
Goethe  moreover  recognized  in  Herder,  for  the 
first  time,  the  terrible  power  of  cold,  unsparing 
criticism.  These  and  other  characteristics  of 
Herder  may  have  supplied  some  elements  for  the 
conception  of  Mephistopheles,  to  whom  Goethe 
may  also  have  transferred  some  of  the  sharp,  sar- 
castic features  which  distinguished  Merck,  with 
whom  he  became  acquainted  after  his  departure 
from  Strasburg.  Nevertheless,  highly  as  that  re- 
markable man  was  prized  by  Goethe,  he  was  not, 
according  to  Grimm,  sufficiently  significant  to 
have  furnished  material  for  a  figure  which  looked 
down  upon  everything  from  so  great  a  height  as 


2$&  COMMENT  ON  THE 

did  Mephistopheles.  I  must  not  pursue  the  sub- 
ject, but  refer  the  reader  to  the  pages  of  H. 
Grimm,  where  it  is  discussed  at  greater  length. 

On  returning  to  Frankfort,  after  parting  from 
Frederika,  Goethe  was  possessed  by  a  feeling  of 
spiritual  unrest ;  the  walls  of  his  chamber  impris- 
oned him  ;  he  wandered  under  the  open  sky,  in 
the  valleys,  on  the  heights,  in  the  fields,  and  in 
the  woods  ;  among  his  friends  he  got  the  name  of 
11  the  wanderer  ;"  during  his  rambles  he.  composed 
and  sang  strange  hymns  and  dithyrambs  ;  one  of 
these,  "  The  Wanderer's  Storm-Song,"  chanted 
aloud  amid  the  raging  of  the  elements,  gives  ex- 
pression to  these  feelings,  and  inaugurates  the  ad- 
vent of  his  "  Sturm  und  Drang"  period.  In  No- 
vember, 1771,  he  dramatised  the  histoiy  of  Gott- 
fried von  Berlichingen  with  the  "iron  hand,"  the 
predatory  Burgrave  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
The  spirit  of  revolt  against  authority  and  tradi- 
tion, which  at  this  period  characterized  alike 
Goethe  and  his  age,  found  its  prototype  in  the 
turbulent  baron,  whose  figure  so  powerfully  im- 
pressed the  poet's  imagination. 

In  the  spring  of  1772  he  repaired  to  Wetzlar, 
and  during  the  summer  of  that  year  he  lived 
through  the  experience  which  subsequently  found 
expression  in  the  "  Sorrows  of  Werther,"  a  prose 
poem,  the  composition  of  which  forms  a  crisis  in 
his  artistic  development.  The  stormy  impulses 
were  quelled,  the  wanderer  was  transformed  into 
the  creative  artist,  who  henceforth  entered  into 
the  full  possession  of  his  genius.  The  three  years 
which  intervened  between  his  departure  from 
Wetzlar,  November  11,  1772,  and  his  arrival  at 
Weimar,  November  7,  1775,  are  the  most  pro- 
ductive period  of  his  life.     "Werther"  was  written 


TRA GED Y  OF  FAUST.  2 39 

in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1 7 74.  "Through 
this  composition  I  had,"  he  says,  "more  than 
through  any  other,  saved  myself  out  of  a  stormy 
element  ;  I  felt  myself  as  after  a  general  confes- 
sion, again  joyous  and  free  and  prepared  for  a 
new  life."  "  The  surest  foundation  of  my  inde- 
pendence I  found  in  my  creative  activity  ;  for 
several  years  it  had  never  failed  me  ;  at  that  time, 
let  a  subject  be  proposed,  I  was  at  once  prepared 
and  ready."  "This  indwelling  poetical  faculty 
belonged  to  me  as  my  own,  and  in  thought  I 
made  it  the  basis  of  my  own  existence."  This 
self-dependence,  based  upon  creative  power, 
transformed  itself  into  an  image,  in  which  Goethe 
personified  and  contemplated  himself :  Prome- 
theus, the  man-creating  Titan.  Such  a  poet  may 
well  be  styled  the  Magician  of  German  poetry,  he 
who  could  say  of  himself,  I  possess  a  panacea, 
which  is  ever  at  my  service,  the  art,  namely,  of 
transmuting  reality  into  poetry. 

The  hour  has  now  arrived  when  he  is  to  fashion 
the  magician  of  the  popular  legend  after  his  own 
image.     This  Prometheus-Goethe  is  Faust. 

"Here  I  sit  and  shape 
Men  in  my  image, 
A  race  like  myself  !" 

We  obtain  an  interesting  glimpse  of  Goethe  at 
this  period,  during  a  brief  sojourn  at  Cologne, 
whither  he  was  accompanied  by  his  most  congenial 
friend,  Friedrich  Heinrich  Jacobi.  They  revelled 
in  the  interchange  of  thought.  At  night  Goethe 
sought  his  friend  ;  they  stood  together  at  the 
window ;  the  moonlight  trembled  on  the  waters  of 
the  Rhine,  and  Goethe  recited  the  ballads  which 
he  had  then  composed,  one  of  which  is  forever 
associated  with  Gretchen — 

"There  was  a  king  in  Thule." 


240     ,  COMMENT  ON   THE 

Even  Goethe's  personal  appearance  at  that  time 
was  invested  with  magical  power.  In  a  letter 
from  Heinse  to  Gleim,  written  at  this  period,  we 
read  :  "Goethe  was  with  us  ;  a  beautiful  youth  of 
five-and-twenty,  full  of  genius  from  crown  to 
toe,  a  heart  full  of  feeling,  a  spirit  full  of  fire 
with  eagle's  wings. "  Are  we  not  literally  remind- 
ed of  the  old  Faust-book,  and  its  description  of 
the  youthful  magician  of  Wittenberg,  uHe  took 
to  himself  eagle's  wings,  and  wished  to  explore  all 
grounds  in  heaven  and  upon  earth"  ? 

It  was  during  this  period  of  creative  activity 
that  u  Faust"  was  produced,  in  its  earliest  form. 
What  Goethe  published  as  a  ' '  Fragment"  in  1790, 
was  most  probably  completed,  for  the  most  part, 
in  1774.  On  the  occasion  of  Jacobi's  visit  to 
Frankfort,  early  in  the  year  1775,  Goethe  com- 
municated to  him  the  scenes  of  his  "  Faust ;"  and 
when,  sixteen  years  later,  Jacobi  had  read  the 
Fragment,  he  wrote  to  Goethe  :  ' '  I  already  knew 
almost  all."  It  is  therefore  certain  that,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  year  1775,  the  oldest  poem,  in 
its  essential  parts,  was  complete.  Some  scenes 
were  added  in  the  course  of  the  year  1775,  as  we 
learn  from  his  letters  to  the  Countess  Augusta 
Stolberg,  the  sister  of  his  friends. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  year  1774,  Goethe  had 
been  captivated  by  Anna  Elizabeth  Schonemann, 
celebrated  in  his  poems  as  Lili.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  a  rich  banker  in  Frankfort,  and  only 
sixteen  years  of  age.  The  alliance  was  not  accept- 
able to  either  family  ;  obstacles  intervened  which 
seemed  to  render  marriage  impossible,  and  to  free 
himself  from  an  embarrassing  situation  he  had 
accepted  the  invitation  of  the  Counts  Stolberg  to 
accompany  them  on  their  Swiss  tour.     Signs  of 


TRA  GEDY  OF  FA  UST.  24 1 

the  mental  unrest  consequent  upon  his  relations 
with  Lili  appear  in  his  correspondence  with  the 
Countess  Stolberg.  On  march  6th  he  writes  to 
her  :  "  I  have  drawn,  composed  a  scene  ;  oh,  if  I 
did  not  now  write  dramas,  there  would  be  an  end  of 
me."  On  September  17,  at  night,  he  writes  from 
Offenbach  :  "  The  day  passed  tolerably.  When 
I  arose,  it  was  well  with  me.  I  composed  a 
scene  of  my  '  Faust.'  I  felt  somewhat  like  a  rat 
which  has  swallowed  poison  ;  it  runs  into  every 
hole,  drinks  all  moisture,  swallows  everything  eat- 
able that  comes  in  its  way,  while  within  it  burns 
with  inextinguishable  fire."  We  are  here  remind- 
ed of  the  song  in  Auerbach's  cellar  : 

"  The  cook  strewed  poison  for  the  rat." 

Who  would  have  suspected  that  in  Altmayer's 
satirical  allusion  to  Siebel  —  ' '  He  sees  in  the 
swollen  rat  his  own  sorry  image" — Goethe  had 
parodied  his  own  troubled  state  of  mind  ?  It  may 
be  inferred  that  the  composition  of  the  Auerbach 
scene  falls  in  September,  1775,  and  has  left  its 
trace  in  the  letter  to  the  Countess  Stolberg. 

The  "  Sturm  und  Drang"  period  is  lived 
through  ;  we  stand  on  the  threshold  of  a  new 
life-epoch  of  the  poet,  generally  known  as  his 
classical  period.  On  November  7,  1775,  in  his 
twenty-sixth  year,  he  repaired  to  Weimar,  where 
he  was  received  most  graciously  by  the  principal 
personages  of  the  court. 

Karl  August,  the  reigning  duke,  "  eight  years 
younger  than  Goethe,  attached  himself  to  him  as 
to  a  brother  ;"  his  wife,  Louise,  the  reigning 
duchess,  a  truly  noble  woman,  also  gave  him 
her  friendship,  and  he  was  a  special  favorite  with 
the  mother-duchess,   Anna  Amalia,  "  who  is  de- 


242  COMMENT  ON   THE 

scribed  by  contemporaries  as  combining  a  mas- 
culine strength  of  understanding  with  feminine 
gentleness  and  amiability. "  "  On  June  1 1 ,  1776, 
the  duke  named  him  Privy-legation-councillor. 
In  January,  1779,  he  was  charged  with  the  War 
Commission  ;  in  September,  1779,  he  was  named 
Privy  Councillor  ;  in  April,  1781,  he  was  ennobled 
by  Imperial  diploma  ;  and  in  June,  1782,  he  under- 
took provisionally  the  Presidency  of  the  Cham- 
ber."*- The  practical  duties  attending  these  va- 
rious offices,  the  distractions  of  society,  together 
with  the  arrangement  and  direction  of  the  private 
theatricals,  which  formed  a  prominent  feature  of 
Weimar  court  life  at  that  period,  left  him  little 
leisure  for  prosecuting  his  literary  labors. 

The  manuscript  of  "  Faust"  had  been  brought 
with  him  to  Weimar,  and  this  poem  was  one  of 
the  first  that  he  read  in  the  presence  of  the  court. 
What  form  the  "  Helena"  had  then  assumed,  we 
do  not  know  ;  it  is,  however,  certain  that  in  1780 
he  read  it  before  the  Duchess  Amalia,  and  a  sec- 
ond time  before  the  Princess  of  Gotha. 

The  conception  and  composition  of  other 
works  which  belong  to  the  classical  period  ban- 
ished ' '  Faust"  to  the  background.  We  know  also, 
from  many  passages  in  his  correspondence,  with 
what  intense  regret  he  felt  himself  obliged, 
during  the  early  years  of  his  residence  at  Weimar, 
to  subordinate  his  literary  proclivities  to  the  duties 
and  cares  of  official  life.  In  1779  he  was  occu- 
pied with  his  "  Iphigenia,"  which  was  first 
written  in  prose.  In  writing  to  the  duke  he 
says  :  "I  let  people  say  what  they  will,  and 
then  I  retire  into  my  old  fortress  of  Poetry,  and 

*  Quoted  from  Mr.  Hayward's  M  Goethe." 


TRA GED Y  OF  FAUST.  243 

work  at  my 'Iphigenia.'  By  this  I  am  made 
sensible  that  I  have  been  treating  this  heavenly 
gift  somewhat  cavalierly,  and  there  is  still  time 
and  need  for  me  to  become  more  economical,  if 
ever  I  am  to  bring  forth  anything." 

"Tasso"  was  begun  in  1780,  and  on  the  last  day 
of  the  same  year  he  wrote  to  Frau  von  Stein  : 
' '  My  '  Tasso*  moves  my  pity  ;  it  lies  upon  my 
desk  and  looks  upon  me  with  friendly  glance ; 
but  what  can  I  do  ?  I  must  bake  all  my  wheat  into 
ammunition  bread."  And  again:  "O  thou 
sweet  Poetry  !  .  .  .  I  withdraw  the  water  as 
much  as  possible  from  these  fountains  and  cas- 
cades, and  direct  it  to  wheels  and  irrigation  ;  but 
before  I  am  aware,  an  evil  genius  draws  the  tap 
and  all  gushes  and  bubbles." 

In  spite  of  these  occasional  outbreaks,  the 
record  of  his  multifarious  labors  during  the  first 
six  years  of  his  Weimar  residence  shows  ' '  with 
what  Spartan  self-mastery  he  held  his  Pegasus  fast 
bound  in  his  stall."  Various  branches  of  science 
meanwhile — mineralogy,  astrology,  and  botany 
— in  connection  with  his  official  activity,  were 
pursued  with  passionate  ardor.  "How  legible 
the  book  of  Nature  becomes  to  me,"  he  writes, 
' '  I  cannot  express  ;  my  long  lessons  in  spelling 
have  helped  me,  and  now  my  .quiet  joy  is  inex- 
pressible." Poetry,  however,  was  his  master- 
passion  ;  he  longed  for  leisure,  and  to  be  relieved 
in  some  measure  from  the  pressure  of  official 
duties,  and  accordingly,  in  1783,  we  see  him 
occupied  with  preparations  for  his  projected  visit 
to  Italy.  Various  reasons  have  been  assigned  for 
his  sudden  departure  from  Weimar  ;  besides  his 
yearning,  natural  to  a  poet,  to  visit  Italy,  the  land 
of   song,  it   has  been  pointed   out  by  Herman 


244  COMMENT  ON   THE 

Grimm  that  the  natural  course  of  events  rendered 
a  temporary  absence  from  the  scene  of  his  labors 
desirable. 

Goethe  had  entered  upon  his  duties  as  prime 
minister,  and  at  the  same  time  as  educator  of  a 
young  and  inexperienced  prince  ;  as  the  develop- 
ment of  the  latter  proceeded,  however,  the  duke, 
from  year  to  year,  became  more  independent,  and 
gradually  took  the  reins  into  his  own  hands. 
Goethe's  position  was  thus  changed  ;  since,  while 
still  burdened  with  the  details  of  office,  the  de- 
cision of  all  questions  rested  with  the  duke, 
Accordingly,  with  wise  forethought,  he  adapted 
his  life  to  these  altered  circumstances  ;  after  ten 
years  of  manifold  activity  he  departed  for  Rome, 
and  after  an  absence  of  nearly  two  years  he  re- 
turned, under  changed  conditions,  to  begin  anew 
existence  at  Weimar. 

The  words  addressed  by  Plutus  to  the  boy- 
charioteer  in  the  second  part  of  "Faust"  give 
expression  to  the  sentiments  with  which  Goethe 
may  have  looked  forward  to  his  departure  for 
Rome,  and  consequent  emancipation  from  official 
cares. 

Now  from  the  burden  that  oppressed  me  here 

Thou'rt  frank  and  free  ;  away  to  thine  own  sphere  ! 

Here  is  it  not  ;  distorted,  wild,  grotesque, 

Surrounds  us  here  a  motley  arabesque. 

There  fly,  where  on  tlty  genius  thou  canst  wait, 

Lord  of  thyself  ;  where  charmed  the  good,  the  fair  ; 

Where  clear  thy  vision  in  the  clear  calm  air  ; 

To  solitude — there  thine  own  world  create  ! 

Four  great  poetical  problems  accompanied  the 
poet  to  Italy  ;  the  versification  of  "  Iphigenia," 
and  the  completion  of  "  Faust,"  "  Egmont,"  and 
"  Tasso."  During  his  first  Roman  residence, 
from   October   28,   1786,  till  February  21,  1787, 


TRA  GED  Y  OF  FA  US  T.  245 

the  first  of  these  problems  was  solved.  After  his 
return  from  Sicily  he  wrote,  on  August  11,  1787, 
to  Herder  :  "  *  Egmont'  is  completed,  and  may- 
be dispatched  at  the  end  of  this  month.  '  Tasso  ' 
comes  after  the  new  year  ;  '  Faust '  upon  his 
mantle  shall,  as  courier,  announce  my  arrival  !" 

These  two  poems,  however,  did  not  advance. 
A  quarter  of  a  year  later  he  wrote  :  ■ '  There 
still  lie  before  me  two  such  heavy  stones  as 
4  Faust '  and  '  Tasso.'  " 

Goethe  poetized  his  own  experiences.  He 
experienced  nothing  that  could  influence  these 
works.  "  If  they  are  to  progress"  ("  Faust"  and 
M  Tasso"),  we  read  in  a  letter  written  on  January 
1,  1788,  "  I  must,  in  the  course  of  this  year,  fall 
in  love  with  a  princess,  in  order  to  complete 
1  Tasso,'  and  I  must  surrender  myself  to  the 
devil,  in  order  to  complete  '  Faust,'  however  little 
inclination  I  feel  for  either."  At  length,  it 
would  seem,  life  comes  into  "  Faust."  We  find 
in  the  diary  of  his  Italian  journey,  March  I, 
1788,  a  very  remarkable  confession  with  refer- 
ence to  that  poem  : 

V  This  has  been  a  prolific  week,  which  in  the 
retrospect  appears  to  me  like  a  month.  In  the 
first  place  the  plan  of  '  Faust '  was  made,  and  I 
hope  that  this  operation  has  succeeded.  Natu- 
rally it  is  another  thing  to  write  out  the  piece  now, 
or  fifteen  years  ago  ;  I  think,  however,  that  it 
will  lose  nothing,  especially  as  I  imagine  that  I 
have  now  recovered  the  threads.  Also  in  regard 
to  the  tone  of  the  whole  I  am  consoled  ;  I  have 
already  composed  a  new  scene,  and  if  I  were  to 
smoke  the  paper  nobody  would  be  able  to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  the  older  portion.  The  old 
manuscript,  as  I  see  it  before  me,  gives  me  much 


246  COMMENT  ON  THE 

to  think  of  ;  it  is  so  yellow  with  time  that  it  looks 
like  the  fragment  of  an  ancient  Codex  ;  and  as  I 
then,  through  reflection  and  imagination,  had  to 
transplant  myself  into  an  earlier  world,  so  I  must 
now  transplant  myself  to  a  period  of  my  own  by- 
gone experience." 

"  This  memorandum  of  Goethe,"  says  Kuno 
Fischer,  ' '  I  consider  most  important,  as  throwing 
light  upon  the  history  of  the  origin  and  develop- 
ment of  '  Faust.'  " 

So  completely  was  the  poet  estranged  from  the 
most  genial  of  his  youthful  works,  that  the  period 
of  its  production  seemed  to  him  like  his  own  by- 
gone existence  ;  he  had  lost  the  threads,  and 
imagines  that  he  has  recovered  them.  In  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  localities  of  Rome,  the  gar- 
den of  the  Villa  Borghese,  Goethe  composed  a 
scene  of  Faust.  No  one,  from  the  locality,  would 
divine  the  scene  :  it  was  the  Witches'  Kitchen. 
"I  imagine,"  Fischer  says,  "that  a  second 
scene  must  also  be  referred  to  the  period  of  his 
Italian  sojourn  ;  namely,  Faust's  monologue  in 
wood  and  cavern  ;  in  one  passage  it  refers  to  the 
Witches'  Kitchen,  it  harmonizes  with  the  plan  of 
the  first  poem,  while  both  in  form  and  contents 
it  is  the  fruit  of  a  later  period.  This  monologue, 
highly  important  for  the  critical  examination  of 
the  work,  could  not  have  been  produced  before 
his  sojourn  in  Italy." 

On  June  18,  1788,  Goethe  returned  from  his 
Italian  journey  to  Weimar.  The  letter  which  he 
addressed  from  Rome  to  Karl  August  plainly  re- 
veals the  new  position  which  it  was  his  intention 
henceforth  to  occupy  in  connection  with  the 
Weimar  Court.  "  My  relation  to  affairs,"  he 
says,  ' '  sprang  out  of  my  personal  relation  to  you ; 


TRAGEDY  OF  FAUST.  247 

now  let  a  new  relation,  after  so  many  years, 
spring  from  the  former.  I  can  truly  say,  that  in 
the  solitude  of  these  eighteen  months  I  have 
found  my  own  self  again.  But  as  what  ?  As  an 
artist !" 

The  wise  duke  answered  this  appeal  nobly. 
The  poet  remained  the  adviser  of  his  prince,  but 
was  relieved  from  the  more  onerous  duties  of 
office.  The  direction  of  the  mines,  and  of  all 
scientific  and  artistic  institutions,  he  retained  ; 
among  them  that  of  the  theatre.* 

On  his  return  to  Weimar,  "  Faust"  and  "  Tasso" 
remained  still  unfinished.  In  the  July  of  the 
following  year  "  Tasso  "  was  completed.  The 
termination  of  "  Faust"  was  not  to  be  thought 
of.  Accordingly,  in  the  seventh  volume  of  the 
collected  edition  of  his  works,  this  poem  appeared 
as  "  A  Fragment"  (Easter,  1790).  Here  closes 
the  first  period  in  the  history  of  the  composition 
of  "  Faust  "  (1 770-1 790). 

This  fragment  consists  of  the  following  parts  : 
1.  It  opens  with  Faust's  first  monologue,  the 
scene  with  the  Earth-spirit,  the  conversation 
with  the  famulus.  Then  follows  a  wide  gap.  2. 
It  recommences  abruptly,  in  the  midst  of  the 
second  conversation  between  Faust  and  Mephis- 
topheles,  with  the  words  of  Faust  : 

u  The  scope  of  all  my  powers  henceforth  be  this, 
To  bare  my  breast  to  every  pang, — to  know 
In  my  heart's  core  all  human  weal  and  woe  ;" 

the  short  monologue  of  Mephistopheles  : 

"  Mortal !  the  loftiest  attributes  of  men, 
Reason  and  knowledge,  only  thus  contemn  ;" 

the  conversation  with  the  scholar,  the  preparation 

for  the  journey,    the   Auerbach   scene,  and   the 

*  Quoted  from  Mr.  Lewes'  "  Life  of  Goethe." 


248  COMMENT  ON   THE 

Witches'  Kitchen  succeed.  3.  Then  follows  the 
Gretchen  tragedy,  with  the  exclusion  of  the  Val- 
entine scene  ;  the  fragment  ends  with  Gretchen's 
words  in  the  cathedral :  "  Neighbor,  your  smell- 
ing-bottle." 

The  essential  parts  were  already  composed  in 
the  beginning  of  the  year  1775  ;  then  followed, 
in  the  course  of  the  same  year,  the  Auerbach 
scene,  thirteen  years  later  the  Witches'  Kitchen, 
and  "the  monologue  in  wood  and  cavern," 
which  was  introduced  into  the  Gretchen  tragedy 
in  a  position  which  required  subsequently  to  be 
changed. 

If  we  compare  the  fragment  with  the  later 
poem  which  lies  before  us  as  the  first  part,  we 
there  find  :  1.  The  dedication,  the  prologue  in 
the  theatre,  the  prologue  in  heaven  ;  2.  All  the 
scenes  which  fill  up  the  wide  ensuing  gap  ; 
namely,  Faust's  second  monologue,  the  Easter- 
song,  the  scene  before  the  gate,  the  third  mono- 
logue in  Faust's  study  : 

M  Behind  me  now  lie  field  and  plain," 

the  conjuration  and  first  appearance  of  Mephis- 
topheles,  the  two  conversations  between  Faust 
and  Mephistopheles,  down  to  the  passage  quoted 
above  ;  3.  The  completion  of  the  Gretchen  trag-* 
edy,  which  forms  the  conclusion  of  the  first  part, 
the  Walpurgis-night,  the  return,  the  prison  scene. 
Among  these  scenes,  some  partly  sketched,  some 
more  or  less  carried  out  and  requiring  revision, 
remained  in  manuscript.  We  now  approach  a 
crisis  in  the  development  of  Goethe's  ' '  Faust " 
similar  to  that  which  marked  the  popular  legend 
through  the  influence  of  Lessing.  During  a  se- 
ries of  years  Goethe  had  endeavored  to  continue 


TRAGEDY  OF  FAUST.  249 

his  youthful  poem,  and  to  bring  it  to  comple- 
tion. He  had  wished  to  transport  himself  back 
into  its  elements,  and  for  a  moment  imagined 
that  he  had  succeeded.  It  was  a  self-deception. 
The  poem  lived  no  longer  in  the  poet,  and  it 
could  not  be  artificially  re -quickened  ;  what  sep- 
arated the  two  periods  was  the  gulf  of  years — the 
difference  between  Goethe  the  youth  and  Goethe 
in  the  summit  of  manly  age. 

The  original  poem  was  the  most  powerful  and 
fiery  outflow  of  the  "  Sturm  und  Drang"  period, 
an  epoch  from  which  Goethe  had  become  more 
and  more  estranged  as  he  advanced  in  life.  This 
estrangement  rose  to  repugnance,  even  to  aver- 
sion, when  the  tremendous  flood  subsequently 
broke  forth  a  second  time  with  Schiller.  In 
order  to  quicken  "  Faust  "  anew  there  was  only 
one  method,  namely,  a  fundamental  reconstruc- 
tion of  the  plan,  which,  without  imitation,  should 
return  to  the  path  indicated  by  Lessing.  The 
impulse  thereto  came,  however,  not  from  Goethe 
himself,  so  strong  at  that  time  was  his  repulsion 
from  this  poem.  He  was,  moreover,  completely 
engrossed  by  other  objects — official  duties,  scien- 
tific studies,  poetical  labors.  He  undertook  the 
direction  of  the  Court  Theatre,  accompanied  the 
duke  on  his  campaign  in  France  ;  during  the 
siege  of  Mainz  he  lived  in  his  botanical,  optical, 
and  anatomical  observations.  After  his  "  Roman 
Elegies "  follow  his  epic  poems,  "  Reineke 
Fuchs,"  "Hermann  and  Dorothea,"  "  Wilhelm 
Meister's  Lehrjahre."  He  conceived  the  plan  of 
a  great  epic,  **  William  Tell,"  which  was  to  be 
the  fruit  of  his  third  Swiss  journey  in  the  year 
1797.  In  the  middle  of  this  year  falls  the  epoch 
of    "Faust's"    resurrection,    the    turning-point 


250  COMMENT  ON   THE 

which  has  made  this  poem  the  German  "  Divina 
Commedia."  The  first  reminder  of  the  forsaken 
"Faust"  came  from  the  poet  who  had  com- 
menced his  career  as  the  most  powerful  leader 
of  that  "  Sturm  und  Drang  '  period  upon  which 
Goethe  already  looked  down,  as  upon  a  "  Dunst- 
und  Nebelweg* "  (a  fog  and  vapor-way).  To  the 
poet  of  "  Iphigenia  "  and  "  Tasso,"  Schiller's 
youthful  works,  dramas  like  the  "  Robbers"  and 
"  Fiesco"  must  have  appeared  as  a  relapse  into 
that  spiritual  ferment  which  in  the  course  of  his 
development  he  had  outlived  and  subdued.  In 
the  estrangement  which  he  felt  from  his  own 
"  Faust,"  some  of  the  same  motives  were  oper- 
ative which  formed  the  gulf  between  himself  and 
Schiller.  This  gulf  was  eventually  bridged  over, 
and  a  relation  of  the  rarest  and  purest  kind  was 
established  between  the  two  poets,  a  league  of 
personal  friendship,  reciprocal  encouragement, 
and  combined  productivity.  They  were  the  last 
ten  years  of  Schiller's  life.  With  a  fulness  of 
noble  and  grateful  remembrance  Goethe,  in  the 
epilogue  to  "  The  Bell,"  has  celebrated  this 
period,  and  the  memory  of  his  exalted  friend. 

This  was  the  poet  who  reminded  Goethe  of  his 
11  Faust,"  and  who  with  his  counsel  was  present 
At  the  resurrection  and  transformation  of  the 
,Doem.  Soon  after  their  first  personal  intercourse, 
Schiller  in  a  letter  written  in  November,  1794, 
touches  uponthis  subject:  "With  true  longing 
would  I  /ead  the  fragments  of  your  Faust  which 
are  still  unprinted,  for  I  confess  to  you  that 
which  I  have  read  of  this  piece  appears  to  me 
like  the  Torso  of  Hercules.  There  reign  in  these 
scenes  a  power  and  a  fulness  of  genius  which 
unm^UU  \j&   reveal   the   master,  and    I    would 


TRA GED V  OF  FAUST.  2 5 1 

follow  as  far  as  possible  the  great  and  bold  nat- 
ure which  breathes  therein."  We  are  reminded 
of  what  Lessing  had  formerly  felt  respecting  the 
old  German  Faust-drama  :  ' '  There  are  scenes 
therein  which  only  a  Shakespearian  genius  could 
have  conceived. "  So  Schiller  now  feels  respecting 
Goethe's  "  Faust."  And  how  does  Goethe  re- 
ply ?  On  December  2,  1794,  he  writes:  "  Of 
4  Faust '  at  present  I  can  communicate  nothing  ; 
I  do  not  venture  to  untie  the  packet  which  con- 
tains it.  I  could  not  transcribe  without  remodel- 
ling it,  and  thereto  I  feel  within  me  no  courage. 
Can  anything  prevail  with  me  at  some  future 
time  to  undertake  the  work,  it  is  your  sympa- 
thy." In  the  August  of  the  following  year 
he  promises  "  something  from  '  Faust'  "  for  the 
December  number  of  the  Ho?'en>  and  Schiller  re- 
peats his  entreaty  August  17,  1795.  This  some- 
thing remained  unprinted.  Goethe  cannot  yet 
bring  himself  to  approach  this  subject.  "  It  is 
with  me  in  this  matter,"  he  says,  "as  with  a 
powder  which  has  precipitated  itself  from  a  sol- 
vent ;  so  long  as  you  shake,  it  seems  once  more 
to  unite  ;  as  soon  as  I  am  left  to  myself,  it  sub- 
sides gradually  to  the  bottom." 

At  length  there  comes  a  disposition  favorable 
to  "  Faust,"  it  is  awakened  amid  the  poetical 
efforts  wherein  the  two  friends  worked  in  rivalry 
for  the  ' '  Musenalmanach. "  M  Our  ballad-study," 
wrote  Goethe,  June  22,  1797,  "has  again 
brought  me  upon  this  '  Dunst-  und  Nebelweg.' 
The  plan  itself,"  such  are  his  words,  "  is  only  an 
idea.  I  have  now  undertaken  this  idea  and  its 
realization,  and  am  tolerably  in  harmony  with 
myself  respecting  it."  He  desires  now  the  coun- 
sel of  his  friend.     Schiller,  in  a  sleepless  night. 


252  COMMENT  ON  THE 

may  think  the  matter  over  and  communicate  to 
him  the  demands  which  he  should  make  upon 
"  Faust  "  as  a  whole.  "  Relate  and  interpret  to 
me,  like  a  true  prophet,  my  own  dream."  Schil- 
ler writes  in  reply  : "  I  will  endeavor  to  recover 
your  threads,  and  if  this  does  not  succeed,  I  will 
realize  to  myself  as  if  I  had  accidentally  found 
the  fragments  of  '  Faust,'  and  were  required  to 
carry  them  out."  "  Because  the  fable  passes  and 
must  pass  into  the  formless,  it  will  be  necessary 
to  pass  from  the  object  to  the  idea.  In  short, 
the  demands  upon  '  Faust '  are  at  the  same 
time  philosophical  and  poetical,  and  you  may 
turn  as  you  will,  the  nature  of  the  subject  will 
impose  upon  you  a  philosophical  treatment." 
Schiller  rightly  adds  to  these  words  :  "In  this  I 
do  not  certainly  say  to  you  anything  new."  The 
philosophical  reconstruction  was  already  in  prog- 
ress. During  the  days  of  this  interchange  of 
ideas  with  Schiller,  Goethe  composed  the  pro- 
logue in  heaven,  the  dedication,  the  prologue  in 
the  theatre,  and  also  the  intermezzo  of  "  Oberon 
and  Titania's  Marriage."  The  prologue  in 
heaven  embodies  the  fundamental  idea  which 
underlies  the  new  Faust-poem  ;  this  new  poem 
had  now  to  be  combined  with  the  already-pub- 
lished fragment,  while  the  latter  had  to  be  ex- 
panded and  brought  into  harmony  with  the  later 
portion  of  the  work.  At  this  time  his  interest  in 
art  was  again  reawakened,  and  he  wrote  his  ad- 
mirable Essay  on  the  Laocoon.  On  the  1st  of 
July,  1797,  he  wrote  to  Schiller  that  he  had  made 
some  progress  with  the  revision  of  "  Faust,"  but 
that  ' '  architecture  had  exorcised  these  airy  phan- 
toms."    In. the  same  month  he  made  his  third 


TRA GED V  OF  FAUST.  253 

tour  in  Switzerland,  where  he  collected  material 
for  an  epic  on  "William  Tell,  to  which  he  felt 
more  strongly  dn».wn  than  to  ' '  Faust. "  The  proj- 
ect of  the  epic  was,  however,  abandoned  ;  "he 
handed  it  over  to  Schiller  for  his  drama  on  that 
subject,  giving  him,  at  the  same  time,  his  idea  of 
the  character  of  Tell,  and  the  studies  of  locali- 
ties." 

In  the  spring  of  1798  Schiller  again  recalled 
his  attention  to  "  Faust  ;"  it  was  resumed  in  1800, 
and  early  in  the  following  year  the  long-meditated 
task  was  completed. 

After  Schiller's  death  Goethe  appeared  to  have 
abandoned  the  prosecution  and  completion  of  the 
poem.  How  profoundly  he  was  affected  by  that 
event  is  seen  from  his  correspondence  :  "The 
half  of  my  existence  is  gone  from  me,"  he  wrote 
to  Zelter.  "  My  diary,"  he  says,  "  is  a  blank  at 
this  period  ;  the  white  pages  intimate  the  blank 
in  my  existence.  In  those  days  I  took  no  interest 
in  anything."* 

On  the  resumption  of  his  literary  activity,  other 
works  occupied  his  attention  ;  it  will  be  sufficient 
to  mention  "  The  Natural  Daughter,'*  "  The 
Wander-year,"  "  The  Elective  Affinities,"  "  The 
Autobiography,"  "  The  West-Oestliche  Divan." 

Half  a  century  had  elapsed  since  the  original 
conception  of  the  poem,  when  in  July,  1824,  Goethe 
applied  himself  to  its  continuation  and  completion. 
Early  in  the  year  1831  he  could  announce  to  his 
friends  that  the  first  and  second  acts  were  com- 
pleted. The  work  had  been  interrupted  by  the 
sorrow  of  bereavement ;   the  death  of  the  duke, 

*  Quoted  from  Lewes'  "  Life  of  Goethe.'* 


254  COMMENT  ON   THE 

"whom  he  affectionately  styled  his  brother  in 
arms,"  July  14,  1828,  was  followed  by  that  of  his 
only  son,  who,  October  30,  1830,  died  in  Rome. 
This  blow  nearly  cost  him  his  life.  A  violent 
haemorrhage  in  the  lungs  was  the  result.  One 
problem  still  rema  ned,  the  completion  of  the 
fourth  act  of  ' '  F\u^  t. "  In  the  deepest  retirement 
of  his  garden-house  he  applied  himself  to  the  task, 
and  on  July  20.-1831,  the  great  work  was  finally 
achieved.  $ 

If  from  the  .yistory  of  "  Faust"  we  turn  to  its 
contents,  we  uiall  find  that  it  consists  of  two 
poems,  each  of  which,  though  welded  together  by 
the  genius  of  ,;he  poet,  bears  the  impress  of  its 
own  individuarity.  In  Faust's  monologue  in  the 
vaulted  chamber  we  recognize  the  features  of  the 
mediseval  magician  ;  soon,  however,  an  element 
unknown  to  the  popular  legend  blends  with  the 
familiar  type.  This  new  element  characterized 
the  German  "Sturm  und  Drang"  period,  whose 
motto  was  (Urnatur  gegen  Unnatur),  the  natural 
against  the  unnatural  ;  faith  in  Nature  had  gone 
forth  like  a  new  gospel  proclaimed  by  the  fiery 
genius  of  Rousseau.  Faust  once  more  reflects 
the  genius  of  the  age,  and,  in  his  passionate 
revolt  against  empty  book-learning,  worn-out 
creeds,  and  rotten  formulas,  yearns  for  more 
direct  communion  with  Nature.  He  opens  the 
mysterious  volume  of  Nostradamus,  and  gazes 
with  sympathetic  admiration  upon  the  harmonious 
working  of  celestial  powers  revealed  to  his  spirit- 
ual gaze.  His  rapture,  however,  endures  but  for 
a  moment ;  contemplation  alone  cannot  satisfy 
the  craving  of  his  soul : 

"  Where  shall  I  grasp  thee,  infinite  Nature,  where  ?" 


TRA  GED  V  OF  FA  UST.  2 5  5 

He  sees  the  sign  of  the  Earth-spirit,  and  ex- 
claims : 

u  Earth-spirit,  thou  to  me  art  nigher, 
E'en  now  my  strength  is  rising  higher, 
E'en  now  I  glow  as  with  nejv  wine ; 
Courage  I  feel,  abroad  the  world  to  dare, 
The  woe  of  earth,  the  bliss  6f  e*.  rth  to  bear, 
To  mingle  with  the  lightning's  jr'are, 
And  mid  the  crashing  shipwreck  not  despair.1' 

With  passionate  eagerness  i  e  invokes  the 
Earth-spirit  ;  the  genius  of  natur  and  of  human- 
ity ;  his  invocation  is  no  cabalistic  formula  ;  it  is 
the  resistless  power  of  the  human  will,  possessed 
by  a  vehement  desire,  which  presi  3S  on  to  its  ful- 
filment. The  spirit  responds  to  Lis  appeal  and 
reveals  himself  in  such  fulness  of  fiery  splendor 
that,  for  the  moment,  Faust  shrinks  back  ap- 
palled. In  the  consciousness  of  inherent  power, 
however,  he  quickly  mans  himself,  and  stands 
face  to  face  with  the  spirit  : 

M  Shall  I  yield,  thing  of  flame,  to  thee  ? 
Faust,  and  thine  equal,  I  am  he." 

He  yearns  to  live  the  life  of  the  Earth-spirit, 
to  come  under  the  sway  of  mighty  passions,  to 
heap  upon  his  bosom  the  bliss  and  woe  of  human- 
ity. The  egotist,  however,  who  would  plunge 
into  the  sea  of  life,  in  order  to  quench  his  indi- 
vidual thirst,  does  not  seize  the  world,  but  is 
seized  by  it,  is  carried  away  by  the  current,  and 
cast  helpless  to  the  ground.  Blinded  by  self-wiii 
he  becomes  possessed  by  that  demoniacal  arro- 
gance which  bids  defiance  to  the  everlasting- 
laws  ;  the  necessary  issue  of  this  conflict  is  tragic 
fate  ;  this  arrogance  and  this  fate  are  the  Hybris 
and  the  Nemesis  of  the  ancients.  This  fate 
♦aust  is  to  experience  till,  shattered  in  his  inmost 


256  COMMENT  ON   THE 

being,  he  exclaims  :  "  Would  I  had  ne'er  been 
born  !"  This  was  the  fundamental  theme  of  the 
first  Faust -tragedy,  which  did  not  exclude  the 
idea  of  the  hero's  final  restoration.  Of  the  Earth- 
spirit  we  find  no  trace  in  the  later  poem  ;  though 
appearing  only  in  the  opening  scene  of  the  origi- 
nal poem,  it  was  evidently  intended  by  the  poet 
that  he  should  play  a  more  important  part ;  this 
is  manifest  from  Faust's  monologue  in  the  wood  ; 
the  exalted  spirit  there  invoked  is  the  Earth-spirit ; 
he  had  bestowed  upon  Faust  everything  for  which 
he  had  implored,  had  satisfied  the  very  wish 
which,  on  his  first  appearance,  he  had  refused. 
The  Mephistopheles  of  the  earlier  poem  is,  more- 
over, no  devil  in  the  diabolical  sense,  such  as  is 
introduced  in  the  prologue  in  heaven  ;  he  is  a 
demon  given  as  a  companion  to  Faust  by  the 
Earth-spirit,  whose  commission  he  fulfils  ;  this 
subordinate  character  of  Mephistopheles  appears 
also  in  the  scene  toward  the  conclusion  of  the 
first  part,  where  Faust  is  hastening  from  the 
Brocken  to  deliver  Gretchen.  He  may  be  re- 
garded as  the  impersonation  of  that  selfish  egoism 
which  sneers,  in  utter  unbelief,  at  the  higher  as- 
pirations of  the  human  soul. 

If  we  now  turn  to  the  prologue  in  heaven, 
with  which,  in  the  middle  of  the  year  1797,  Goethe 
began  the  recomposition  of  his  work,  we  shall  find 
in  the  words  addressed  by  the  Lord  to  Mephis- 
topheles the  fundamental  theme  of  the  new  poem. 

M  Divert 
This  mortal  spirit  from  his  primal  source ; 
Him  canst  thou  seize,  thy  power  exert, 
And  lead  him  on  thy  downward  course, 
Then  stand  abash'd,  when  thou  perforce  must  own, 
A  good  man,  in  the  direful  grasp  of  ill. 
His  consciousness  of  right  retaineth  still." 


TRA GED Y  OF  FAUST.  2 57 

This  theme,  of  everlasting  interest,  the  proba- 
tion, fall,  and  ultimate  restoration  of  the  strug- 
gling human  soul,  pervades  the  poem,  underlying 
its  varied  and  complicated  elements.  The  insatia- 
ble thirst  for  knowledge  had  formed  a  character- 
istic feature  of  the  mediaeval  Faust ;  the  celestial 
voice,  in  Lessing's  prologue,  proclaiming  to  the 
devils,  "  Ye  shall  not  prevail,"  had  stamped  the 
thirst  for  truth  as  a  divine,  not  a  diabolical  im- 
pulse :  in  the  words  above  quoted,  Goethe  recog- 
nizes conscience  as  one  of  the  deepest  instincts  of 
the  human  soul ;  the  inward  compass  pointing  to 
the  True  and  Right,  which,  notwithstanding  its 
aberrations,  can  never  be  ultimately  diverted  from 
the  pole.  The  varied  energies,  intellectual  and 
moral,  which  are  the  birthright  of  humanity,  can, 
however,  only  have  free  scope  amid  the  manifold 
trials  and  temptations  of  this  world  ;  this  thought 
necessitates  the  introduction  of  the  tempter. 
Here  Goethe  returns  to  the  popular  tradition  ; 
Mephistopheles  is  introduced  as  Satan,  who  is 
permitted  by  the  Lord  of  Heaven  to  endeavor  to 
divert  the  spirit  of  Faust  from  its  original  source, 
and  to  lead  it  on  the  downward  way. 

Faust,  baffled  in  his  attempt  to  solve  the  prob- 
lem of  the  universe,  curses  in  his  despair  the 
lofty  aspirations  of  his  higher  nature  ;  he  yields 
to  the  tempter  and,  in  the  vain  desire  to  still  the 
craving  of  his  soul,  plunges  into  the  depths  of  sen- 
sual gratification.  He  is  permanently  lost,  how- 
ever, only  on  one  condition  ;  namely,  the  subju- 
gation of  the  higher  to  the  lower  elements  of  his 
being,  the  permanent  triumph  of  self-indulgence 
over  aspiration  and  effort.  Hence  in  Goethe's 
poem  Faust's  ultimate  doom  appears  uncertain  to 


25  8  COMMENT  ON   THE 

the  last,  and  not,  as  in  the  popular  tradition,  pre* 
determined  at  the  expiration  of  a  given  term. 
With  regard  to  signing  the  compact  with  a  drop 
of  blood  Goethe  is  careful  sharply  to  define  the 
difference  between  the  popular  tradition  and  his 
own  poem.  Here  the  compact  is  not  fearful,  but 
absurd  ;  its  object  being  Faust's  inmost  nature, 
if  he  loses  the  wager  he  has  lost  himself,  and  all 
is  over  ;  it  is  ridiculous  to  promise  with  signature 
and  seal  that  something  shall  happen  which  has 
already  come  to  pass.  When  at  the  close  of  life 
he  appears  verbally  to  have  lost  the  wager,  he 
has  in  reality  won  it.  His  satisfaction  consists, 
not  in  the  gratification  of  his  lower  appetites,  but 
in  a  nature  elevated  through  the  exercise  of  its 
noblest  powers.  He  finds  happiness  in  redeem- 
ing from  the  elements  an  extended  region  which, 
through  his  exertion,  is  transformed  into  a  sphere 
for  human  activity  and  well-being. 

He  has  found  his  true  vocation  in  laboring  for 
humanity,  and  in  imagination  contemplates  with 
joy  the  harvest  which  he  has  sown,  and  which 
others  will  reap. 

Mr.  Lewes  also  recognizes  "  that  the  solution 
of  the  Faust  problem  is  embodied  in  his  dying 
speech  :  the  toiling  soul,  after  trying  in  various 
directions  of  individual  effort  and  individual 
gratification,  and  finding  therein  no  peace,  is 
finally  conducted  to  the  recognition  of  the  vital 
truth  that  man  lives  for  man,  and  that  only  in  as 
far  as  he  is  working  for  humanity,  can  his  efforts 
bring  permanent  happiness."  Such  a  consumma- 
tion is  no  triumph  for  the  devil.  Faust  has  won 
immortality,  and  is  borne  aloft  by  angels  with 
the  triumphant  song : 


TRA  GED  Y  OF  FA  US  T.  259 


'*  Saved  is  this  noble  soul  from  ill, 

Our  spirit-peer.     Who  ever 
Strives  forward  with  unswerving  will, 

Him  can  we  aye  deliver  ; 
And  if  with  him  celestial  love 

Hath  taken  part, — to  meet  him 
Come  down  the  angels  from  above  ; 

With  cordial  hail  they  greet  him," 


THE  INTERMEZZO. 


As  without  some  key  this  scene  is  utterly  incom- 
prehensible to  the  English  reader,  a  brief  notice 
of  some  of  the  allusions  it  contains  is  here  sub- 
joined ;  they  are  dwelt  upon  at  greater  length  in 
Diintzer's  work. 

It  may  be  regarded  as  a  kind  of  satirical  jeu 
d1  esprit,  and  consists  of  a  series  of  epigrams,  direct- 
ed against  a  variety  of  false  tendencies  in  art, 
literature,  religion,  philosophy,  and  political  life. 

The  introductory  stanzas  are  founded  upon  the 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  and  Wieland's  Obe- 
ron.  To  celebrate  the  reconciliation  of  the  fairy 
king  and  queen  a  grotesque  assemblage  of  fig- 
ures appears  upon  the  stage.  Commonplace 
musicians,  and  poetasters,  having  no  conception 
that  every  poem  must  be  an  organic  whole,  are 
satirized  as  the  bagpipe,  the  embryo  spirit  and  the 
little  pair.  Then  follows  a  series  of  epigrams, 
having  reference  to  the  plastic  arts,  and  directed 
against  that  false  pietism  and  affected  purity 
which  would  take  a  narrow  and  one-sided  view  of 
artistical  creations.  Nicolai,  the  sworn  enemy  of 
ghosts  and  Jesuits,  is  introduced  as  the  inquisitive 
traveller,  and  Stolberg,  who  severely  criticised 
Schiller's  poem,  "  The  Gods  of  Greece,"  is  allud- 
ed to  in  the  couplet  headed  "  Orthodox." 

Hennings,  the  editor  of  two  literary  journals, 
entitled  the  Musaget,  and  the  Genius  of  the  Age, 
had  attacked  the  Xenien,  a  series  of  epigrams, 
published  jointly  by  Goethe  and  Schiller  ;  Goethe, 


THE   INTERMEZZO.  201 

in  retaliation,  makes  him  confess  his  own  unfit- 
ness to  be  a  leader  of  the  Muses,  and  his  readi- 
ness to  assign  a  place  on  the  German  Parnassus 
to  any  one  who  was  willing  to  bow  to  his  author- 
ity. Nicolai  again  appears  as  the  inquisitive 
traveller,  and  Lavater  is  said  to  be  alluded  to  as 
the  crane.  The  metaphysical  philosophers  are 
next  the  objects  of  the  poet's  satire  ;  allusion  is 
made  to  the  bitter  hostility  manifested  by  the  con- 
tending schools,  the  characteristics  of  which  are 
so  well  known  that  it  is  needless  to  dwell  upon 
them  here.  The  philosophers  are  succeeded  by 
the  politicians;  "the  knowing  ones,"  who,  in 
the  midst  of  political  revolutions,  manage  to  keep 
in  with  the  ruling  party,  are  contrasted  with 
those  unfortunate  individuals  who  are  unable  to 
accommodate  themselves  to  the  new  order  of 
things.  In  revolutionary  times  also,  parvenus 
are  raised  to  positions  of  eminence,  while  worth- 
less notabilities,  deprived  of  their  hereditary 
splendor,  are  unable  to  maintain  their  former 
dignified  position.  "The  massive  ones  "typify 
the  men  of  the  revolution,  the  leaders  of  the  peo- 
ple, who,  heedless  of  intervening  obstacles,  march 
straight  on  to  their  destined  goal.  Puck  and 
Ariel,  who  had  introduced  the  shadowy  proces- 
sion, again  make  their  appearance,  and  the  fairy 
pageant  vanishes  into  air. 

What  relation  this  fantastic  assemblage  bears 
to  Faust  is  not  immediately  obvious,  unless,  in- 
deed, as  Duntzer  suggests,  the  poet  meant  to 
shadow  forth  the  various  distractions  with  which 
Mephistopheles  endeavors  to  dissipate  the  mind 
of  Faust,  who  had  turned  with  disgust  from  the 
witch-society  of  the  Brocken. 

The  End. 


This  edition  of  Goethe's  Faust  presents 
what  is  really  a  complete  tragic  poem. 
The  second  part  is  omitted  as  superfluous 
and  not  desired  by  the  general  reader. 


UNIFORM  IN  STYLE  AND  PRICE,  IN 
FREDERICK  A.  STOKES'  SERIES  OF 
DAINTILY  BOUND  POETICAL  WORKS,  ARE: 

GEORGE  ELIOT'S  POEMS. 
THE  SPANISH  GYPSY. 
CHARLOTTE  BRONTE'S  POEMS. 
THOMAS  GRAY'S   POEMS. 
W.  M.  THACKERAY'S  POEMS. 
GOETHE'S  FAUST. 
HEINE'S  BOOK  OF  SONGS. 
LONDON  RHYMES,byF7?derick  Locke, 
LONDON  LYRICS,  by  Frederick  Locker. 
THE  GOLDEN  TREASURY,  by  F.  T. 

Palgrave. 
CHARLES  DICKENS'  POEMS. 
LUCILE,  by  Owen  Meredith. 


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